Barrow Fields the oblong box

New Snow watches the hunt with her son. And it seems, even despite her injury, she is in it from afar—her muscles flex, she stretches outward to snap at air—and New Snow looks to her son, wondering if he would be as taken by the hunt as she and his own father were. New Snow was not an unaffectionate woman, and if permitted would give her son a kiss across the face with an encouraging whine. It will be you hunting with the rest, soon!

Once the hunt was done, she limps toward the pack. New Snow waits for her own turn to eat, but only wrinkles her muzzle toward any who step out of line. She is too much of a pushover with those still young to correct them with teeth, especially if their tongues find her own cheek, but New Snow intends to teach them (albeit gently) now that many had grown out of their puppy privilege.

When done, she limps over to her leaders and offers them congratulatory chuffs and presses against them to acquire their scents merrily, before ending up alongside her man and sniffing at him too to seek that all was well. When she realized it was, she pressed her head against his own.