A shift.

Moon Runner’s fur stood on end as her body sensed a shift in the world around her.

She looked up from where Cloud Dancer’s tracks had been.

Hadn’t they been there? Hadn’t she been following her Wealda’s path?

A singleton raven cawed in the air. This place, its smells… everything was different.

Are we… alone? The spirit asked as an uncanncy fear tightened its vessel's belly.

She began to lope through the woods, but no tree nor feature seemed familiar. The taiga she knew so well had vanished in the blink of an eye.

Wandering these lands had proven fruitless so far—empty, quiet.

Not that Devika minded. There was comfort in the silence, in the stillness that blanketed the world. She moved through the trees like a shadow—silent, ever vigilant. A flicker of movement caught the edge of her vision.

She paused.

Eyes narrowing, she tracked the silver figure as it slipped between the trunks, loping with purpose. With little else to occupy her, she shifted her course, trailing behind at a careful distance.

Watching.

Curious.

A new breed of fear and panic made Moon Runner’s heart beat quickly. She couldn’t comprehend the cosmic shift that had transported her – only that her new reality wasn’t one she recognized.

She began to whimper, calling for Cloud Dancer and Grim Tooth as she searched for any whiff of their trail.

But then – there was the scent of another closing in.

Moon Runner’s tail tucked defensively as she spun around, eyes flicking across the dense forest from bole to bole.

A spray of red and white hair. She thought of Pale Buffalo Hunter's patchwork pelage.

A low rumble bubbled in her throat. A warning.

Who goes there? the Spirit said without words.

The silver turned, a growl rumbling in her throat.

Devika came to a slow halt, keeping a measured distance. Curious. What had given her away? No matter. She had no voice to answer the sound, so instead, she let her tail lift and flag—not in threat, nor in submission. Just a gentle sway at the tip, a silent message of neutrality.

Tilting her head slightly, she exhaled through her nose, then drew in a slow breath, cataloging the stranger’s scent. No danger. If anything, the other she-wolf seemed… afraid.

Why?

What had her so distressed?

With deliberate slowness, Devika began to move—not forward, but in a quiet half-arc at the same distance, her movements fluid and unthreatening. Her blue eyes never left the silver, watching closely, curiously. Waiting to see what she would do next.

The other’s approach ceased.

Moon Runner’s rumble quieted as her tongue swiped over her nose.

Her ears orbited, unsure, as she measured the other wolf – all the while wondering where her clan, who clapped out of existence, had gone.

At first, she thought it was freshkill upon the strangers coat. A mask of red, similar to Blood Spot’s, acted as a a stark backdrop for ice water eyes. Moon Runner raised her nose, taking scent from summer’s humid air. They were female… but this land and its smells was so new that Moon Runner could not parse if they belonged to any pack.

They moved again and approached on the bias. It was polite wildspeak, but Moon Runner’s rattled state felt pressure.

Her lips lifted to show two tooth-tips.

I need space, the Spirit said, as her posture locked up.

Small flashes of white flickered from the stranger’s maw. Interesting.

Devika came to a halt and lowered herself onto her haunches, eyes never leaving the other’s. Her posture remained relaxed, deliberately neutral. She posed no threat, just another drifting soul in a world that asked little and offered less.

The silence stretched. No response.
Devika tilted her head slightly, studying the she-wolf anew. Was she mute, too? Or simply withholding her voice, something Devika had yet to earn?

Her sharp blue gaze swept over the stranger: no visible injuries, no pack scent clinging to her coat, and alone. Wandering. Curious.

New to these lands, perhaps? That might explain the wariness.

Devika understood that. She remembered how disorienting it had been, first realizing she had arrived in this place—so quiet, so strange.
It suited her well enough.
But maybe not the silver.

The other listened. Trust was earned.

It was clear to Moon Runner, now, that the stranger had good intentions.

Moon Runner’s lips went slack. To diffuse her own stress she lowered her nose to the ground to sniff the sedge and weeds. Small signs of appeasement proved her desire to meet without conflict. A lip lick. A flick of an ear. A sway of her tail.

The vagrant gave Moon Runner the time she needed to ground herself. Her gaze surveyed past the mottled wolf to observe the strange place she had landed. It was then she noticed the haze upon the air – but she, at the time, thought nothing of it.

Once again, her attention turned. Moon Runner’s ears cupped forward as she took a tenative step towards the other female as if to suggest she was finally ready to meet and share scent.

The stranger calmed, tension bleeding away. Good.

Devika remained seated, letting the silver decide how this meeting would unfold. Her ears flicked in quiet acknowledgment, her tail giving a single, soft thump against the cool earth.

A small part of her wondered if things might have been different, had she been able to speak. The stranger didn’t seem fond of words, but perhaps Devika could have explained herself—bridged the quiet gap between them. But there was no point in dwelling on impossibilities.

Still, she couldn’t help but question herself. Was she being naive, assuming the best of this lone she-wolf? Perhaps the calm posture was nothing more than a well-crafted show.

Yet even so, Devika saw no reason to prepare for a fight, no need to bristle or posture.
So she waited.

Moon Runner, and her family, had never uttered a word. At least – not like the others. Not like their clan mates. That sort of language no place in their reality… and often it was as if nothing had ever been said at all. Even if the stranger could speak, the light of recognition would never fire in Moon Runner’s amber glazed eyes. Her spirit only spoke with the body and the heart.

Her gaze gentled when the stranger showed no aggression.

Moon Runner ambled toward her with a loose body. A sway of her tail.

Friend? the Spirit asked.

Somewhere in her gut she knew… she would never see Cloud Dancer, Grim Tooth, Sister or Faraway Shadow ever again.

Suddenly, she grew light headed from the miasma's effects.

Devika leaned forward slowly, her posture open, encouraging. Friendly.

She preemptively sniffed the air. The sharp tang of fear was fading, replaced by something steadier, calmer. Good.

But another scent tugged at her attention, thick and cloying, curling around her senses. Her nose crinkled. It was that strange, sickly-sweet smell that clung to the odd-colored snow in the far north—purple, unnatural. She had done her best to avoid it, but here, it was unavoidable.

Lingering here was unwise. She knew that. But for now, her focus remained fixed on the stranger before her.

Maybe, just maybe, she could convince the she-wolf to flee south with her, away from the sickness seeping into the land, before it took hold of them both.