It had been a week since she had opened her eyes to the foreign world. A week since Takala had closed her eyes and woke up to the scent of Rowen's horrid morning breath and the familiar feeling of moss beneath her. Moss. Oh, how she missed the moss-- as a pup, all she slept on was lichen and dirt. A commonplace for her Northener family, perhaps, but one she missed no longer since she had grown spoiled with the Southerner's ways of life.
Since her arrival, she had come to gather she was far, far from familiarity. She had decided to remain focused on returning home to her husband and family, albeit with a tinge of doubt lingering in the back of her mind. But she shant let it come to the forefront, not now. She had far more important things to worry about.
As such, she found it imperative to replicate the comforts of her home--after all, maintaining sanity was important, or so they say--complete with a moss-lined bed, earthen walls to provide insulation, and similar prey items she had indulged with back in her homeland. But it wasn't the same. Nor was the prey as savory. Lemmings could only provide so much protein before her stomach rumbled in protest for a more satiating meal. As such, an alien scent, though unmistakably prey, had stirred her from the confines of her encampment that morning. It was a cooler morning than most, perhaps attributing to the fact it was the heart of winter, and the bitter air was stagnant. 'Ripe with opportunity', her father used to hum on still mornings such as these.
Her prey-- A wanderer, she thought. Just like her.
The ice-lined tracks of her prey were rigid and defined with symmetrical half-moons, not dissimilar from that of a doe. As her stomach willed her forward, she obeyed, pathing close to the creature's trail. She had been so immersed in the alluring scent of her target she hadn't noticed the stranger standing idly by not a dozen or two wolf-lengths away. A gruff bark startled her, and thus her head rose promptly to the source of the noise.
A tall, cream-hued wolf-- one among some of the first she had seen since arriving in this foreign land-- and certainly not a Northener like her. His disposition was confident but intrigued. It was safe to assume he wasn't a pack wolf, then. Otherwise, he would have rushed her sooner.
Takala's ice-blue vision focused, and she opted in that moment to mirror his confidence. Was he tracking this creature as well?
"Hello," She would attempt carefully. "I don't mean to steal away your prey, my apologies," While her voice was warm and confident, there was a hint of uncertainty lingering in the back of her throat. There was no way to be certain if the stranger had a few friends hiding out nearby. Being upwind, she could only sense the creature's presence not far ahead.
Since her arrival, she had come to gather she was far, far from familiarity. She had decided to remain focused on returning home to her husband and family, albeit with a tinge of doubt lingering in the back of her mind. But she shant let it come to the forefront, not now. She had far more important things to worry about.
As such, she found it imperative to replicate the comforts of her home--after all, maintaining sanity was important, or so they say--complete with a moss-lined bed, earthen walls to provide insulation, and similar prey items she had indulged with back in her homeland. But it wasn't the same. Nor was the prey as savory. Lemmings could only provide so much protein before her stomach rumbled in protest for a more satiating meal. As such, an alien scent, though unmistakably prey, had stirred her from the confines of her encampment that morning. It was a cooler morning than most, perhaps attributing to the fact it was the heart of winter, and the bitter air was stagnant. 'Ripe with opportunity', her father used to hum on still mornings such as these.
Her prey-- A wanderer, she thought. Just like her.
The ice-lined tracks of her prey were rigid and defined with symmetrical half-moons, not dissimilar from that of a doe. As her stomach willed her forward, she obeyed, pathing close to the creature's trail. She had been so immersed in the alluring scent of her target she hadn't noticed the stranger standing idly by not a dozen or two wolf-lengths away. A gruff bark startled her, and thus her head rose promptly to the source of the noise.
A tall, cream-hued wolf-- one among some of the first she had seen since arriving in this foreign land-- and certainly not a Northener like her. His disposition was confident but intrigued. It was safe to assume he wasn't a pack wolf, then. Otherwise, he would have rushed her sooner.
Takala's ice-blue vision focused, and she opted in that moment to mirror his confidence. Was he tracking this creature as well?
"Hello," She would attempt carefully. "I don't mean to steal away your prey, my apologies," While her voice was warm and confident, there was a hint of uncertainty lingering in the back of her throat. There was no way to be certain if the stranger had a few friends hiding out nearby. Being upwind, she could only sense the creature's presence not far ahead.
