Lone Star Mountain today, you were far away

The storm had passed to reveal a rare bluebird sky above fresh snow.

Seal, roiled with emotion, took it upon herself to briefly break away from the wolves of the Vale to hide her feelings. She did not want them to think her weaker than they already knew!

She paused atop a ridge that overlooked the wintery taiga to the north: a place she did not know. Seal slumped against the rough bark of a sequoia and felt hot tears prick at her eyes. Then, covering her face, she began to cry.

It was unwise to travel far from the herd. Winterfox was wise, but she was also forgetful. She knew not to go far—and still her legs tended to keep moving.

It was slow going, but it was going. The momentum got even slower as the angle of the earth worked against her; when her joints could take no more, she stopped.

That was how the elder mare found herself partway up a mountain path, nibbling at whatever bits of grass poked through a veneer of snow. They crunched because of the ice that glazed them, and she found that satisfying. She did not yet notice the little wolf or how it cried.

Heavy footsteps in the fresh snow caused Seal to sniffle away her next sob.

Her paws curled tight to her chest as she looked, eyes red and wet, for whatever creature also traipsed about the ridge… for it certainly wasn’t a wolf.

She caught sight of it lumbering… and decided it was not bear, nor elk, nor deer, nor moose… it’s legs were thick, it’s body wooly and broad. A long, dark, strip of hair fell from its neck and tail… a feature she had never seen in a forest creature.

Seal shifted fearing that it might decide to trample her should it be surprised to be near a predator….

But Seal, so sad and alone and miserable, also spoke. “You’ll not w-want tae go this way,” she said. “More w-wolves down there.” Her eyes cast in the direction of the Vale to the place where her new life would have to begin.

The only sound to reach her ears was that of her own teeth catching the ice-tips upon the grass. Some she broke away in her nibbling, some fell away with the faintest of glassy notes. Sometimes the ice would melt immediately upon her tongue but if she was quick she could move these bits to her molars and have a satisfying crunch.

As the mare went to reach for another, there was movement in her periphery that her instincts told her to be mindful of. She withdrew sharply—with more speed than she had afforded her ambling earlier—and saw, then, the young wolf draped in grays.

Her nostrils flared and she pulled herself a step back in the snow. The wolf looked west; Winterfox could smell many things in the air now that she was paying attention, and realized her mistake in having wandered so far. The wolf did not appear to be aggressive in this moment but that did not mean it could not become a threat; so she withdrew another step and another, back, back, back, without turning her attention away.

With more distance she felt a bit better, and saw that there was grass nearby that was gilded by the same crunching ice that she had so enjoyed, and her attention was again divided.

The wild animal took notice and backed away.

“That’s right…” Seal affirmed. Her posture slackened and she slumped against the sequoia’s bole once again. “You’d be best scairt of the wolves down there… they’re a strong sort. I owe a debt tae them,” she began to ramble as if the creature could understand.

“They took me in… even when I stole their food.” Her lipline began to warp. “I didnae deserve such kindness.” Was it kindness? Seal was still skeptical, the image of Chaudry’s severe face burned into her mind.

“An’ that’s not all of it,” she continued. “They dinnae ken I ran from the lowlands… from the Copse, the moon villages, the seal hunters… my family doesnae ken where I am.” One paw wiped away a crocodile tear from her right eye. Seal didn’t know what she was trying to achieve by running away with her guilt. She felt as if she didn’t know anything at all.

Beyond the barrier of predator-versus-prey there was such a divide between Winterfox and the wolf that would mean Seal's words fell upon deaf ears. They could read one-another's posture and body language enough, but that was where things ended.

All that Winterfox could ascertain in this moment was that the wolf was lethargic rather than aggressive, and that they carried many predator-scents with them, likely from the west. Given that the wolf was not moving in any way that was antagonistic of the mare, a certain stillness could be savored between them.

Winterfox was an old mare who often lost her way, but she was not lacking for intelligence. She could sense there was something wrong about this wolf; but upon not finding visual sign of injury she surmised it was something deeper. If they were not about to chase her off then she could keep grazing—at a distance—and so she did that.

The crunch of her molars accented Seal's explanation, although that explanation hit that species barrier.

She wondered if perhaps this wolf had been driven away from its herd? That would be enough to make anyone despondent.

Though the creature could not, would not, answer, Seal still appreciated that it listened.

“Och, I should be stronger than this,” she admitted weakly. Seal thought of her mentors… Sialuk, Teya, and Bridget… of all the things she had learned and the stories she had been told. “Would would everyone think? Seeing me cry like a wee bairn.” She pushed the snow around with a paw. Ajei came to mind next… her kind face and fire-red fur. Then Raiyuk… the sealhunter boy. Had he recieved his scars? Had he grown tall? Then Frolic. Where had her best friend gone? Was she safe?

More faces from her childhood… Taggak, Chani, Massaraq, Arrluk, Alaric, Elentari…

The faces of her family… Mom, Da, Orca, Otter, Skipjack, Stingray, Towhee, Bushtit, Killdeer, Caracal, Phox, Ava, Ana, Dinah…

Seal squeezed her eyes shut, wanting so badly to rewind time, if only a little.

She watched the creature graze, her heart heavy.

“What are you, anyway,” she pondered. Then, a depricating laugh. “Could you be a mountain spirit?”

The more the wolf communicated in its way, the less and less Winterfox became afraid. It had not risen; it only appeared to cry and lament over things she could not understand. Its focus was internal, for what that was worth.

The mare gradually grew less and less afraid, and so she began to graze a little bit closer—but not too close. Ready to bolt if something untoward were to transpire.

A sound arose from the wolf that made her head lift quickly, and ears fan forward towards it. Although the words meant nothing to her Winterfox detected a tone of condescension which she did not appreciate. Giving the wolf a side-eye now, she bellowed and snorted to show her annoyance.

Big dark eyes, shining as if knowing, stared uncontested towards Seal.

The creature’s sudden sound caused the young wolf to jump and gasp. No other Teekon creature made such a noise!

Seal’s dark brown eyes went wide and her tawny ears slicked sideways as if in apology. “I'm sorry…“ she said. Her sadness was momentarily forgotten and wonder took is place.

There was a moment between them… Seal could of sworn… a connection. Her ears swiveled and suddenly the young girl was certain she was in the presence of an ancestral mountain spirit. She had an affinity for such things ever since sealing the gravesite with Sialuk.

She laid on her belly, eyes fixed on the mare. “What should I do? How should I go on?” she pleaded.

The wolf appeared to melt in to the loam.

The mare considered the power imbalance of her weighty self versus the smaller creature who had not yet done her harm; how easy it would be to step forward and to trample them. One less wolf and so one less hungry belly intent on chasing the fillies and colts that were bound to come along.

She took a step closer, and then another. The wolf tried to convey something but Winterfox did not understand the question, but by the time she got close enough to reach out with her snout towards them—a bold choice even for her—any darker thoughts had evaporated.

She reached for one of the golden-furred ears. Her nostrils flared. She played with the fur there, and atop the wolf's head, as if she were tending to one of her children. They were softer than what was expected. Different from the wooly layer of a newborn foal; but reminiscent enough that Winterfox felt her own kind of comfort in the contact.

Then she withdrew. Her chin tucked and she shook out her mane across her neck with a jostle, and turned to go.

Seal waited.

Then, it moved.

Tha-rum. Tha-rum. Tha-rum.

The sound of its mighty steps meant the spirit-beast drew near.

Adrenaline flowed as Seal’s heartbeat ran wild. She understood its power. Did her questions evoke its ire?

Its large shadow eclipsed her. Seal’s eyes squeezed shut, face pressed into the cold snow. Breath held.

Its whiskers brushed against wolfsfur, and then its gentle touch tickeled the bulb of her ear. It felt motherly. Affectionate. Doting. Kind.

And Seal felt peace. Comfort. Enlightenment.

The waves in the sea of her mind calmed.

She dared not looked up and stayed in the moment.

The shifting of her body could be heard as she pressed on through snow, hooves crunching those icy shoots which previously had been an entertaining snack for the mare. She did not consider the threat of the wolf any longer. It had many scents, yes, and it had not moved once it had spotted her, and it did not chase her now, so all of these things gave Winterfox a sense of security. A foolish notion—she was still prey—but one that would mean a leisurely exodus from the moment rather than the thunderous type, and vastly preferred.

Eventually the sound of the mare was swallowed by the pine forest.

The little wolf was left alone again.