Lion Head Mesa Pangur Bán and I at work

Vanity still had hope in finding the child.
She'd set out at a fast pace that morning, looking for any remains of a trail.
If thay'd gone up the stream, which was likely because there wasn't much down it, then she'd suspect that the thief would take the kid up.

It had been such a long time since the mountainous woman has been posed with a challenge such as this, and took it with every ounce of her being.
She hauled her ass up the steep slopes, looking for the rock falls and places she did not want to get stuck.
She found this exhilarating. Rewarding.

Then, her ears caught the squabbling cries of cougars.
Perfect.
She'd studied them often in her time in the south, and from them, she learned a lot about how to fight and hunt - lending her to some very useful skills.
Her pace was slower now, but nonetheless urgent.
The fight had already ended, but there was the trail.

A tail of smaller paws went one way, larger ones another.
The victor's trail.
She followed the larger pawed trail, eyes seeking for the tanned form of feline.
Alas, she came upon none.

Wolves never seemed to look up.
Not even Vanity.

She paused at a tree, taking a breather in the shade. The air was cool, but there was humidity in the air that tired her.
then she remembered what she was here for. The pup.
Above, lurked the cat she sought for moments before.