Bitterroot Valley she had been forced into prudence in her youth,

the leg. 
so it was not to be a long dash. the hunter was then more confident in his abilities, and would rely upon imaq's more swift build. mahler followed at once, setting a silent jaunt at the duskfire's flank.
the carpeted taiga rolled beneath their paws, and whenever imaq had stilled herself, mahler too followed suit, passing lavender gaze to follow her own.
something to be said for the quiet way that wolves fit together when hunting; age nor name nor sex nor locale mattered, only the shared hunger between fanged mouths.