Sequoia wasted no time in the land that Mahler planned to move Sagtannet from. Why spend time learning a place when they were only planning on leaving. Instead, she set out toward the place he had mentioned: the place with the large, splintered rock. It was easy enough to find, and Sequoia stood looking at the broken boulder for some time. It looked the way she felt.

She grimaced at that thought, not wanting to let thoughts of Crow plague her. Thoughts of her mother, thoughts of Wildfire, thoughts of Kiwi. Over and over again, tragedy. For so long, Sequoia had been able to bounce back from just about anything life threw at her, but at some point, the bounce had gone out of her. When Crow had stormed off, not to return, it had broken her.

There he was again, haunting her mind.

She turned away from the boulder, looking north toward the woods. Her gaze continued to scan westward until she caught sight of Sagtannet's current, soon-to-be-former, home. The mountain, as impressive of it was, was far too close to her birthplace for her to feel comfortable there. She was glad he sought to move, even if she would have tolerated it under the right conditions.

Mahler approached, and Sequoia drooped in his presence. Since this was a more relaxed meeting, she did not go belly-up as she had the day prior, but she was sure to remain respectful so long as he was her superior.

There's an inside? she asked, answering his question with one of her own. She had thought the boulder was just a landmark, not somewhere to be inhabited. The land above wasn't terrible, she thought, but it wasn't anything spectacular, either. They would at least be well-guarded to the north and east. That forest looked damn-near impossible to navigate, thick as it was. From the mountain, she had seen that it stretched on for miles and miles, so it was unlikely they would get much trouble from that way.

There were mountains to the south and Sagtannet's old home stood to the west. They would be tucked away here, and while that was good to some degree, Sequoia worried that it might cut them off from the world. Avoiding conflict was one thing, but she was actively seeking a distraction from heartbreak, and what would happen if the foot traffic did not come here? She would, of course, go on scouting missions of her own, but she doubted they would have many show up at their borders this far away from everything.

Sequoia followed, curious now about the place within a place. She had already written him off as a contender for her. Maybe as a fling, but nothing more. He was far too... something she could quite pinpoint.

It was dark as she entered the crack in the stone, but her eyes adjusted as they continued inward, and when they arrived to the main room, she could see why he had chosen this place. Mahler moved to inspect something, but Sequoia was already in the process of deciding which would be hers.

I'll take this one, she said, standing at the entrance of one of the smaller rooms. It was cozy, but not too small for two wolves. There was some work to be done with it, but she thought she could do it up nicely. Procure some furs for lining, clean out some of the cobwebs, add a touch of her own flavor to it. She didn't even consider that other members of Sagtannet might want first pick, but she didn't really care, either. This one would be hers. She was sick of being a doormat and getting passed over for what she rightfully deserved.

She took another look at the small room, then she followed after him. He didn't seem like the conversational sort, at least about personal issues, so she steered the conversation toward their new home instead. She had no inclination to ask about his past, because that would involved talking about her past as well, something she very much wished to leave behind. This was meant to be a new chapter in her life, and she wanted to make it so.

I am trained as an ambassador, she said. What sort of wolves should I bring back here?

Besides, of course, men. That was her own objective, but what was Mahler's? He had accepted her, but he hadn't given her a good idea of why he had done so. If she was to be a good ambassador for Sagtannet, she would need to know his preferences or things could get very awkward very quickly.

Men who knew their place; women who would bring children. Well, that explained why Sequoia had been taken in. If he had said "women who know their place," she probably would have fit under that umbrella, too. He claimed that it could not be searched for, but she didn't think that was true. There were plenty of women out there who could and would want to bring children into the world. As for men, well, Sequoia could only think of Crow and what a terrible partner he'd been. Lazy, selfish, stubborn, mean. The list went on and on, and she didn't have one good thing to say about him anymore. Only sour thoughts plagued her mind.

At least she knew his preferences, and through that, she may be able to gain his favor. Perhaps if a young, good looking guy came along, he could rave about how great Sequoia was, and this make-believe guy would fall madly in love with her. Then she could reject him. That thought brought a smile to her lips.

She fell into silence at Mahler's shoulder, thinking that—while she wasn't an excellent hunter—helping him hunt would be yet another way to get on his good side. If she could impress him, she would be granted more freedom, she wagered.

It was a comfortable silence, and Sequoia found she preferred it to talking. It meant that there were no questions about where she had come from, what had brought her here, or any sort of badgering about her history. That, she decided, she would keep close to her chest. Nobody needed to know about Crow, even if he plagued her thoughts day in and day out. If she had known Mahler suffered from a very similar situation, she might have changed her mind on the subject, but there was only silence.

She paused when he did, then moved in close to the fur and blood. Sequoia drank in the scent. It smelled like the color of tangerines. She scarcely noticed her strange affliction these days, so ingrained it was into her everyday life, but it was still there. Mahler's own scent was a cool slate blue, something that matched his presence quite well. Occasionally, there would be a color that really threw her off, but his blended well with his personality, as far as she could tell.

Sequoia let him move onward once she had inspected the clear mark of what they were after, ready to abide by whatever plan he set in motion.

Sequoia saw—and heard—the creature ahead. A quick glance from Mahler got across all she needed to know. She knew she would be judged for the outcome of this, which put her nerves on high alert.

And then, she realized, there was no need. She had not promised him anything, and she certainly had not promised him a successful hunt. Sequoia reminded herself that hunting wasn't even her strong suit. She'd been trained as an ambassador, and she had some experience as a counselor. She wasn't devoid of skills as a hunter, but she wasn't a strong one. She would do her best, because that was all he was going to get from her.

Sequoia waited, once again preparing herself for his instruction.

She followed his silent instruction, her own movements similar to his, but reflected. The horned creature was in dire need of an end to its life, and she licked her lips. This would be a good feast for the two of them (and whoever else might want some). The smell of it made her belly ache, and she waited impatiently for the kill. If the animal decided to flee, it would not be difficult to cut it off and make the kill herself, although she sensed her new companion would want to do the dirty work. She was not really cut out for it, after all.

The more primal parts of her were at the forefront of her mind now, and it was a welcome break from the torment of Crow's haunting. Likely, after her stomach was satiated with meat, she would go back to thinking about him, but for now, there was peace and a singular focus on the animal that lay on the ground, breathing heavily. She would later wonder if it had wished for an end to it all. Surely it must.

She watched, bracing herself in case the animal decided to spring, but Mahler was quick to pin it to the ground. She had thought its death would come swiftly, but instead it continued to struggle, dying a slower death that she had originally anticipated. Sequoia had positioned herself on the side opposite of the sharp hooves, not wishing to gain an injury so soon after pledging herself to this pack. And when the movement finally stopped, she stepped back, giving Mahler space to eat while she waited her turn to do so.

        blood filling his mouth, darkening his chest to crimson. when the animal had given up the ghost, he set its head against the bracken floor. 
        it was satisfying to see sequoia hold back, and mahler begin to tear the flesh, only beset by a small flame of self-consciousness as he filled his belly and, later, carved pieces off to take to their claim.