Wapun Meadow run run run

All welcome, but tagging @Jade @Topaz @Skaro in case they want to snag this one.

For the first two years of her life, Tomahawk had grown to believe she was a wolf. Her mother and father had never said differently, and she had no reason to suspect otherwise. She didn't look so wildly different from other wolves, and even if she had, it wouldn't have been within her grasp to notice the difference. Sure, she was small. Sure, she had large ears. Sure, she was slender. Sure, she didn't match any of the wolves around her, who were shades of white, black, and grey. But her parents had always cared for her, and they had raised her as their own, so what else could she be?

And even though she would deny it with every ounce of her being, Hawk knew, deep down, that she was nothing more than a nasty coyote. She had tried, a few times, to get along with what were supposed to be "her kind," but she had always failed. They acted differently, gave off different body language, hunted differently, and she simply couldn't stand them. They knew nothing of being a wolf.

So she had lived as an outcast for the past year, seeking out a pack who might take her in, or a lone male who might start a family with her.

A coyote—young, by the looks of it—raced toward Tomahawk as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. Was this supposed to be her friend or something? As far as she recalled, Hawk had never met a "Topaz," nor had she ever been on good terms with any coyotes. She gave the younger girl an odd stare, half-expecting her to be a vanishing hallucination.

When half a minute had passed and Topaz hadn't vanished, Hawk gave her a wary, uninviting, "Tomahawk." There was simply no way she could be keen on meeting coyotes. She would never, ever get used to it. They were so different from what she had grown up learning. Even their body language differed from her own. Tomahawk stood stick-legged, uneasy, and waiting.

Tomahawk narrowed her eyes, unsure of what to think of this... Topaz. She seemed overly curious and liked to over share to somebody who had only uttered a single word to her. Hawk tried to remember if all coyotes were like this, or if Topaz was just a fluke. The fact that she boasted being a coy wolf was not something Tomahawk needed (let alone, wanted) to hear, though she kept that hidden for now.

"I'm a wolf," she said, wondering if the near-stranger would try and correct her. As far as Tomahawk was concerned, she always had been, and always would be, a wolf. Calling herself a coyote was a farce that she had long ago abandoned. She couldn't care less what others thought of her—she knew what she was, even if everybody else in the world was blind to it.

The brazen nature of this coyote was beyond her. If this was any indication of the entire species, Tomahawk wanted nothing to do with them. So far, they had met, exchanged names, species, and now this one thought she was friendly enough to go on a hunt? That was just... not how it worked.

"No," replied Hawk in a flat tone. What on earth would make her want to hunt with some stranger? Such a thing was unheard of, and she would not be taking part in this madness. Hawk could find her own food, and she expected everybody else to do the same. This wasn't some yuppie co-op, and they certainly weren't pack-mates.

Tom is kind of a butt. :3

If the coyote had hoped for pity, with that sad look, she was looking in the wrong place. Nobody had ever shown Tomahawk pity, aside from her parents, and she wasn't about to go handing it out like candy on Halloween. What did Topaz want from her, anyway? Clearly, their personalities were clashing in a big way. Why stick around and try to force the un-forceable?

"I'm obviously not," Tomahawk replied in a sharp tone, hoping this would be enough to drive away the coyote. If not, she would find a way to be alone again. Or at least away from the species that she'd been born from. If it had been a wolf, well, she might have been the one begging for conversation and attention.

Tomahawk was used to the insults, but it didn't make them hurt any less. She watched as the real coyote (she could call herself a coywolf all she wanted to, but it didn't make it true) spun and ran off. Hawk hardened her expression, then went back to her business, testing the air and keeping her ears open for any wolf packs nearby. Sooner or later, she was bound to run into one. Whether or not they would accept her was an entirely different story, and one that had always ended in disappointment.