Silver Moraine on track

very vague about outcome of things as to not make any assumptions !

Sunday Morning was none the wiser that there was any life within her. There were tells, though in her first year of carrying she would not know them. There were no physical changes, but that did not mean all remained the same. She noticed, for instance, a particular hankering for food items when normally, she was simply happy to eat. For others, Sunday Morning felt a severe aversion—such as fish. Sunday Morning enjoyed to fish, but now she avoided it as she had no taste for it.

She stood for a moment, tongue lolling, looking over her shoulder for @Augur who oft was near. Then and there, she did not spot him. Tongue rolling over her nose, Sunday contemplated. It was a strange thing, her craving, but she desired waterfowl. It was early morning, a good time to hunt the sort she favored... though she did not know if the king eider inhabited these lands. And if it did not... Sunday Morning looked back to the open territory that sprawled out before her, sniffing at the wind. If it did not, there was big game to track.

Sunday Morning found a nearby root to squat over to both relieve herself and send a message to her mate should he be seeking her. And then she moved deeper into the Moraine, senses at work for the prey she sought... though also, for any other wolves within her vicinity.

She set out to the nearby territories, an eagerness to see the taiga more. How horribly she had missed it. She had never imagined herself living a life like this.

Cold and dry, barren lands spotted by rivers and glaciers.

Every bit of it felt like home now. Even the places that nobody claimed, but here she could smell brief markers. In no direct pattern or order. More akin to a trail to follow. A woman.

What was their intention?

She moved along until she spotted her, pale and hale. Beautiful. Truly. The woman seemed to be on the move for something, but Sakhmet would not be surprised if she had been spotted. It was not as if she had done much to mask herself.

She offered a low, warm note.

Stranger women were easier to trust than strange men.

Sunday Morning heard the other before seeing them, or even smelling them. They had the advantage, thanks to the wind. Sunday's ears cupped backward as she moved, listening. Many had passed her by, as she had them. Crossing ships in the night. Sunday did gaze over her shoulder, though, when the sound of the other drew nearer.

Red Woman!

Sunday Morning slowed at once, tail wagging meagerly and head low.

But the greeting voice was different. And other things, too. Sunday Morning noted the furs, the stone-hued (in the light where she stood) chest and tail. Their eyes, too, she noted as her gaze passed the others fleetingly, averting to show this was no challenge. Like riverwater, she had observed. And the red furs were also distinct; she could compare it to ultisol, had she the name for it. A passing thought. They looked as she had become during her long travels, and yet held a presence about her that somehow made her larger. A wild looking woman.

This one, in name, became Woman with Eyes of the River—Rivereyes.

She loosed a low, inviting chuff, lifting her nose to the sky to taste the wind. Both to track, and show the woman what she was doing; seeking something to hunt, or something to track.

They appealed to one another.

The wordless greetings between them and the clear surveillance of one another. She knew of only one other she could be completely comfortable in silence with. Would this woman become the second?

She did not speak so neither did Sakhmet. Instead the pale woman motioned in a tracking manner. Something on the breeze had been worthwhile, or she was looking for such. Carefully, on lean limbs, she plucked her way closer towards the other woman.

She gestured up the moraine towards the glacier's claim.

Life was near non-existent here, but a jaunt north would prove bountiful.

Sunday Morning watched the other. When they stepped closer, Sunday Morning lifted her head a measure, tail waving in invitation. Sunday Morning did not miss the gesturing, though did not yet look in that direction. Her eyes were still upon the woman, and Sunday then carefully shifted to close the distance between them so that they two could inspect one another further. The movements were slow, and tentative, to allow Rivereyes room to step away if she came too close for comfort.

For her own part, she kept her head low to appear as nonthreatening as possible. Her tail continued to wave, temper altogether pleasant. Gingerly, she extended her muzzle toward the others nape to explore her scents should she be allowed, simultaneously exposing her own for Rivereyes to investigate too should she wish. Sunday wondered if this she wolf was a sister to Red Woman, or perhaps Red Eyes... or if she ran with the Rise at all. These details were not nearly so important as making sure her hunting partner of the day was in good health, which she appeared to be.

if she is still not outwardly noticeably pregnant at this time please PM and i can edit! :D

Oh.

They seemed to be closer to one another now, but no threat loomed from the pale hunter. Instead it all seemed friendly. Learning each other. She welcomed the woman to sniff at her nape as she returned the gesture.

The woman smelled strongest of one another. An unknown scent, but one that wove carefully into the furs of pale hunter. There was also, this close up, the signs of a developing pregnancy. Sakhmet remembered her own so well still. How she had felt like a balloon up until the very end and the end had brought a painful blessing.

Sakhmet did not know her, but she felt a sudden bubble of excitement for the other woman.

This conveyed in the sudden waving of her tail and the high pitched whine in her throat.

I think anyone attuned to those things could recognize it! So that is fine with me :)

Much could be learned from scents, and much she did. This woman was not of the Rise, but ran with several others. She was full of vitality, just as she had looked. Sunday Morning's ear cupped backward at the others whine, tail automatically swaying as she turned her head to look to Rivereyes. Her head tilted, sensing the others joy, noting where it was they lingered.


Sunday Morning licked her chops, looking to the same spot, tail waving a little quicker. It was clear that she had been unaware that anything had taken, but she trusted the other woman, her nose. Her yellow eyes turned back to the stranger, letting out another whine as though seeking further confirmation. She dared to hope it was true; Sunday Morning knew she and her mate had answered natures song with their dance, but had no experience in knowing what it coming to fruition would look like. Feel like.

And even still, she was unaware that part of that feeling was the way she craved waterfowl with every fiber of her being. Her desire for it seemed to raise by the minute, not forgotten even with the pleasant distraction that did manage to make up the majority of her headspace then.

Had she been the first to break this news?!

Sakhmet did not know if that should have brought worry or delight! With another gentle whine, she moved to trace her nose along the side of the pale hunter. She wondered if the woman would balloon as badly as she had.

How many might there be? One? Four? Where was the woman's husband? Did she have a husband?

You'll have children, She whispered. A voice for the first time in this meeting.

With the news broken, there was further desire to be a provider. This was not her own, but she had been in the position of this woman not very long ago. She motioned towards the trail they had been following with a cant of her head.

If there was the chance of a hunt on it, they must act!

The words that were spoken were not understood.

But the way in which Rivereyes communicated with her body, her gestures, her exceptional softness... Sunday Morning did not know this woman, but Rivereyes did not appear soft, not of spirit. Instinct commanded some of this union, then, but Sunday Morning knew that the truth of their own bond was not made less by it. Sunday Morning found herself very glad to have met Rivereyes.

An excited whine came, unbidden. And she bumped companionably against Rivereyes, her own gaze lantern-bright, the flame full and restless. She was doubly glad for the path Rivereyes gestured to, the path they had both found, and with a woof Sunday Morning bounded toward it, looking back to her companion with a full, merry wave of her tail. She would happily hunt with this woman.

The summon of the winter woman was welcomed.

One she followed dutifully. The moraine and glacier were not unfamiliar to Sakhmet, but it would be nice to have another take a lead for a moment. To be able to...follow. It was not often these days that she shed this responsibility.

She only offered a slight chuff of air to the pale hunter, signaling she was following along.

If you want you can pick what they find!

Rivereyes joined her.

Sunday Morning was glad for it. The good news made her all the more restless. The hunt would settle her, for a time. Sunday ranged onward to follow the direction Rivereyes had gestured before. Sunday Morning suspected something of interest would be there for them both to bring down, if her own good fortune continued at least.

Now and then, Sunday would pause to sample the air, adjusting her path in small measures in answer. The scent of something was becoming stronger. An ear twitched to listen for her companion, wondering if that might be the thing Rivereyes desired to give chase to.

Mule deer.

They seemed to favor moving through the glacier with its newfound emptiness. Easy for them to use it to pass between grazing places.

She hummed something deep and dull in the back of her throat. She wished to know if the mother-to-be might favor the deer as a meal.