Thunder Dome umbra

Ruenna picked her way down from Thunder Dome, paws magnetized to the familiar, well-beaten route despite the swiftly gathering darkness. Rue had traveled this way many times, and she could likely find her way home with her eyes closed at this point. Even so, her steps were calculated and deliberate. It was her opinion that early evening was the most treacherous time of day to traverse a mountainside. The dusky twilight drowned all shapes and colors, and the sunset cast long, deceiving shadows over even the most carefull footfalls. At least in the full darkness of night, one could not be misled by devious tricks of the light. 

Knowing better than to overly depend on her vision, Ruenna cast her other senses before her. She was surprised to catch wind of a long-ago acquaintance, one who had then self-identified as a southern packwolf. Perhaps he was a southerner no longer, Rue mused, noting that Stigmata's scent had changed somewhat since their last meeting. 

"Stigmata of Bearclaw Valley," Ruenna's voice reached out through the twilight, soft but not quite as tenative as the man might recall. She had not yet set eyes upon the the man's form, but she knew he lingered nearby. She allowed a note of amusement to slip into her voice as she spoke again. "How delightful that you have once again found your way up north, and to my stomping grounds."  Delightful might not have been quite the word to describe their last meeting, but Rue was of a more confident disposition now than the last time @Stigmata had made her acquaintance.