Rising Sun Valley A New Hope

there was that word again, the one that the crick-necked child had used upon her entrance to the blackfeather woods.  the rest of the girl's vocalizations go unnoticed.  when the wind carried her scent she realized that the woman was alone, and even this far from home — this close to another pack's borders — her tail raises an inch.

she pushes forward, her heterochromatic gaze meeting up with the mismatched eyes of the stranger, dipping into a tentative play-bow.