Firefly Glen [PHE] qanglaxtal

There had been a shift in energy at the hunt—but Nantahala wasn’t sure what’d happened.

She’d watched as the adults had gathered to talk, then as some departed, and now, she watched those who remained. There was a nervous energy among some in the group, and she fed into it. Her legs grew restless, her heart quickened somewhat, and her mind raced as she tried to seek the answers that’d pacify these feelings.

While she knew there was much for her to do—namely find a potential match for her brother and tend to Moonglow’s camp—she skirted her responsibilities to mingle with the rest of the wolves. Perhaps after knowing what’d happened, she’d return to her duties.

After throwing the mountain cat’s fur around her shoulders, she departed from Moonglow’s camp and headed in the direction of Swiftcurrent’s, her eyes searching the crowd as she drew closer to the neutral territory on the other side of the other camp.

Before the girl reached the Swiftcurrent camp, however, she'd first cross paths with Kitimat, who was industriously stalking a group of sparrows in some nearby bushes. They'd gone silent with his approach, but he knew that if he stayed still enough, they'd let their guard down to feed on seeds on the ground—and he could pounce.

Instead, pawsteps coming from the opposite direction sent them scattering higher, and he lifted his head with a huff, irritated gaze eventually resting upon—

The prettiest wolf he had ever seen.

(Well, besides his mother, of course.)

She was soft and golden, with eyes like the sky on the brightest days. Adding to her beauty was the striped pelt draped over her, contrasting wonderfully with her own fur. She was elegant, graceful. . .

And he was going to be so bummed if he ever found out they were second cousins.

Hello, Kitty managed, straightening and arranging his features into something less, uh, stupefied.

”Hello,” a stranger called.

Nantahala slowed to a stop and turned to face Kitimat. He was a handsome young man with large, orange-gold eyes, and she looked him up and down with a soft smile on her face. Her heart began to race, she swallowed hard, and shifted her weight as she tried her best to compose herself.

Needless to say—he had her undivided attention.

Hey, she said in reply, her tail swinging lazily at her hocks. What’s up?

He would be awfully pleased if he knew he'd inspired the same sort of awed awkwardness in the girl that he himself was currently feeling. 

Unfortunately, situational awareness only came with age and wisdom—neither of which he had.

Hunting birds, Kitimat replied, tail swinging at his hocks. I'm Kitty—uh, Kitimat. What's your name?

His head was tilting slightly without his volition, looking her over. Did she hunt? Or track, at least? Maybe they could stalk something together. By the look of her, she could walk softly and keep calm—a perfect partner for it all.

Not only was he handsome, but he was also a hunter—something which was very appealing to her. She leaned closer, her eyes bright, and her smile slowly growing.

It’s nice to meet you, Kitty, she said, opting to say the first name he’d given. I’m Nantahala. Then, without skipping a beat, she added, I love to hunt—mind if I join you?

He gave each syllable of her name careful consideration upon his tongue. Nantahala, he repeated, slowly but surely, and smiled at the sound of it.

And she hoped to hunt, too!

The birds I was hunting flew away, he explained. He shrugged, setting that speed bump aside. We can find others.

With a jerk of his chin in invitation, he padded down the forest trail, ears swiveling to listen for various birds in the trees. Only when he was certain that they had happened upon a flock of them did he pause and sink low, waiting. He didn't even dare to breath, instead cutting his eyes in question to Nantahala.

Do you hear them? his gaze read. It was actually a group of juncos, feasting on berries littered upon the ground. They're within our reach.

Nantahala nodded in agreement as she looked up and searched the sky, as though she were expecting to find the birds that Kitimat had mentioned. When she did not spot them, she returned her gaze to him, and her face warmed at the sight of him. Sounds like a plan, she agreed once she’d cleared her throat. I’m sure we’ll find something in the woods. Although there’d been an influx of predators to the area, she anticipated that they’d be successful in their search. She figured a lot of the area’s prey had fled to the woods to hide.

She followed after him, her steps light and cat-like, and she scanned the area surrounding them as they walked. Her ears stood tall upon her head, and she also listened for any birdsong or chatter. Soon, the chirping reached her, and she stilled her stalking.

”I do,” Nantahala confirmed, crouching as her gaze cut to the feasting birds in the distance. They pecked at the ground, and were blissfully unaware of the danger that loomed not far from them.

Her chin jutted towards them in question, and silently, she wondered, ”Want to chase them? Or should I?”

She was older; he trusted her judgment more. Kitimat nodded, first toward the birds, then toward her golden face. If anyone were to make the first move, she ought to.

For his part, he'd stay hidden in the brush, body folded down onto the ground to escape notice.

It was nice to have a hunting partner. He'd made his siblings play along with him, occasionally, but this was the first youngster apart from his litter that actually indulged him.

The grin that split his muzzle gleamed white among the leaves at his paws.

When it was decided that she would chase, Nantahala nodded and moved into position. She moved slowly, cat-like and steady, while keeping their prey in her line of sight. She would have to find a way to keep the birds from flying away, and while she wasn’t sure how, she was confident she’d think of a way.

Once they were both in position, Nantahala began to creep towards the flock. When she was close enough, she leapt, startling them and sending them every which way. Some flew away, while others hopped, and she searched the frenzy to find a target. She found a plump one hopping in the direction of the bushes, and she honed in on it, and began to herd it towards Kitimat.

Kitimat's face split into a broad grin at Nantahala's expertise, and when her chosen junco scurried toward his jaws, he set upon it with a decisive crunch.

Bird in hand, he placed the quarry upon her paws, fiery eyes gleaming.

Yours, he declared, smiling. Take to your camp.

He did not begrudge her the kill. He was overjoyed that they'd snared one in the first place, and his tail wagged heartily, face lit in delight.