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.