Phoenix Maplewood Rooted inside of my DNA

The tips of his fur brushed against maple. The trees sprouted colors he'd seen only once. A distant memory, yet not so long ago, and something he could vaguely recall. The corners of his eyes came to a squint that leaf light fell upon. Running water rippled through his ears, his nose.

Soft soils pillowed his weight and blanketed his claws, greenery climbing along his wrists. To a maple tree, his tail fanned out and his nose pressed to what was now sticky bark. He smelled something vaguely sweet. Sniffffffff!

The most wondrous of places weighed down the damning flames of his fire; extinguished and dampened. His mind was lost in scents. Would you be too, if you could smell the earths history and stories as he? Then, that fanned tail came to a slowww wag, as if the tickles in his mind drew pleasing. He was still bandaged and battered, but surely he'd forgotten all about his pains now.

Masque followed the scent of a young buck from the foot of the rise toward the moraine, where they lost the trail. They persevered across the rugged terrain and rediscovered it in the forest beyond. They’d barely breached the tree line when wolf and deer crossed paths in a small clearing and spooked one another quite badly.

The Caru could only stand there in shock, feet braced and heart pounding, as the buck sprang away through the trees. After a few seconds’ delay, they loped after him. Masque had never intended to hunt such big game by herself, simply track his movements. Was he part of a herd?

Another scent wafted into their nose and Masquerade slowed to a trot, then a walk, before stopping altogether. They raised their reddish snout into the crisp September air and sniffed, trying to get a read on the scent. Wolf. Male. Young. Injured?

Three wolves diverged in a yellow wood, and I —

Riley felt a change on the breeze. Already, bursts of red shot across maple leaves. The earth’s sun cured fescue scents turned to damp and slow growth; streams trickled at the end of their run, and squirrels began their mad dash towards stocking their bowers for the long winter nights to come.

Riley scented wolves on the breeze, too. One was nearer; he caught her scent mixed with the trail of a buck beginning his rut. The other scent was further, and carried a heat with it.

He did not make it to four years of age by forfeiting his life to strangers; but the splinter in Riley’s paw had embedded its way into his bloodstream, causing waves of sickness to overcome him. He was hungry - and hungry made him desperate. If anything, maybe the two of them would have an easy meal he could poach from them, given his maturity and brawn.

Riley kept to the treeline, watching.

Sweet scents and drying leaves clouded his noses vision, but there was an underlying whisper amongst his senses that pulled him out. Cracking his lip up to an unsettled curl, he ran his tongue over his teeth uncomfortably. All of crept up him.

Had he brought himself to pack territory?

His stomach dropped low. He crept to the closer scent- a female's touching his nose; though, there was a drowned sensation to the alarms ringing bell to bell in his mind. A distant buoy. Fog from his past injuries had made it hard to center. The sound was dull, even if heard.

It was slow that his paws trailed him up a hill, and slower that ears touched his eyes, and next a bloody red mask. From the right of their flank, he lurked. He didn't intend to stay there long. He then felt his eyes squint with unsureness. Questions. So, then it became two in the ethereal woods watching her with unwavering eyes.

Now a third scent came to their attention. Before Masque could fully process it, they were pivoting on a paw and loping back in the direction of the rise. They swore they felt eyes on the back of their head, yet they refused to turn and look until they made it to the far north side of the maples. They cleared the trees, only then slowing to swivel again and peer back toward the woods.

There were two male wolves back there, both unknown. The yearling was curious enough that they hesitated a moment, despite their instincts pressing them to head home to safety. Their marigold gaze swept from the woodland to the moraine and back again.

Unknown to him, the male pressed deeper into the undergrowth.

But the female was a streak of silver against summer bleached leaves; he watched as she loped to higher ground.

Clever girl.

Riley did not pursue. His nose spoke of no food, so there was little to be had in lingering.

He made for the thicket, trailing the scent of buck from before.

Then, he rushed to where the figure had spooked off. In the middle- in the midst of where the two had parted. He'd not known there was a second until he heard the closer steps, and until he'd checked with his nose next. Looking behind him, then ahead of him, he caught glimpse of a dark tail, and ahead of him a light figure. Both leaving, and one who slowed.

What the hell?

Were they ghosts?

Scrunching his nose hard in concentration, he didnt have it in him to chase either of them. Then, next he vocalized his perplexion, eyes narrowed and teeth shown from his quirked lip. What the hell- "What the hell?" 

There were strange wolves lurking here. In a beautiful woods- he felt like the vines and fluttering leaves overhead were twisting. Disorienting. One moment, they were present. The next, fading. Like spooked deer.
Perhaps it had been him. He found it strange to run from him now though. He looked to the one in the distance, the one in gray who had not completely disappeared, before looking away to shake his head. This was disorienting. 

They heard the rumble of a masculine voice, too distant to make out the words. That decided it for Masquerade. Hackles prickling warily, they turned and galloped back toward the rise. If they crossed paths with any patrolling guardians, they would notify them of the strangers lurking in the nearby woods out of an abundance of caution. But hopefully nothing would come of it, so long as they didn’t range any closer.