The Foothills

Freezing currents swept furiously through the air, blasting back the she-wolf's fur, rustling the pine needles as they whistled through the treetops. The snow-laden pines, however wide or tall, were too sparse to shield the creature from the chilling assault. She blinked, squinting through what must have been her fourth or fifth hour ploughing through the deep drifts of snow. The powdery substance gave easily as her wide paws packed them down. Each breath drew in a pocket of air, cool like mint, but lacking the sweetness. Her nose was dry, muscles stiff, the cold seeping into her cracking pawpaws. To these things she paid little mind. She was a wolf, after all, built to toil at far lengths, to survive the most unforgiving of seasons. So it wasn't fatigue that pulled like dead weight at her limbs...

How long ago had she given up on proper sight? Her body swayed along the course, stumbled here and there as she let herself be guided by scent alone. The only shapes she detected through a perpetual squint were the brown-green blurbs of the trees. Pausing, her head swiveled over her shoulder to assess how far she'd come, only to see that her tracks had disappeared with the constant sweep of the wind. Tracks... And suddenly, she remembered. The beast jerked forward, head low and tail whipping briskly. That's... that's right. I was tracking—I was following a scent. The scent of carrion, once revolting, now a beacon to a lone wolf who, all too often, saw to bed with an empty stomach. Snow flew up into her chest, muzzle, cheeks as she crashed onward. Nearing the carcass, she heard a chorus of yelping further ahead. The she-wolf lifted her gaze to see a pair of coyotes a few leaps ahead, milling about a bloodied hide. Her lips drew back, hackles rippling along her neck; the she-wolf uttered a rolling snarl. The sound carried over the wind and reached the coyotes, who turned tail and bolted in the opposite direction.

Her tail swung with satisfaction, but as she circled closer to the kill, she stopped in her tracks. It was nothing but leathery hide and old bones, and very little meat. Snorting faintly, she lay herself down and began to gnaw at the exposed ribs, gulping down the frozen chips of flesh. Overhead, the sun moved slowly westward.

It came unbidden, the memory of warm bodies curled around her, of pushing her muzzle comfortably into a packmate's fur. Playing in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. A pang of guilt turned her stomach, and with a faint whine, the she-wolf pushed herself back onto her paws, wobbling slightly. She shook her head, shoving the memories back down, and instead turned her golden eyes to the situation at hand. As bare as that carcass had been, it was indeed a lucky find: for all she knew, it may have been the only food for miles. The need to hunt was pressing, but a half-filled stomach made for far better odds than an empty one. Turning away, the she-wolf made her way towards a nearby pine tree, crawling under the low-hanging boughs and settling into the roots. She panted quietly, puffs of warm air swirling around her muzzle, and for once was grateful of her small stature. The pine boughs shielded her from most of the wind. Needles were everywhere, though, poking into her belly and scraping her back, but really, it was a minor tradeoff.

She lay her head between her forelegs, breathing deeply, eyes fluttering shut as she dozed off.

It hadn't even been a good half-hour before she was disturbed. Her breathing steady, Chabi opened one eye, ears swiveling to catch the sound of cracking bones not too far off. Damn coyotes. Probably back to see if there was anything left, though she was sure she'd picked it clean. She contemplated chasing away the nuisances. Then again, she wasn't entirely opposed to making a meal out of one of them... The she-wolf lifted her head, her stomach clenching and mouth beginning to water. Oh, this would be too easy. She'd run down coyotes before, and her speed was an advantage; as long as she stayed downwind, she'd have a good chance of catching one.

Ears pinned against her head, she creeped into the snow from underneath the pine boughs, one paw after the other. She squinted as a fresh, chilling breeze blasted across her face. Her body reacted first, lurching forward before she consciously registered a new scent, one that was not in fact coyote. In mid-leap she slammed her legs into the snow, biting back a yelp of surprise at the sight of a wolf several meters away, a male by the smell of it. Huh, boy... Not exactly something she could nibble on, now could she?

Adrenaline shot through her limbs, stiffening her legs and gluing her to the spot, her eyes fixed on the dark-coated canine. Perhaps he hadn't heard her. Nevertheless, he would eventually detect her presence. If the wind changed direction, or if her steps were too loud, he would find her pretty much right away. Alternatively, she could stand her ground. The thought was laughable, at first, but if he was more submissive than your typical male, maybe she could pull off a believable bravado... No, still laughable. The she-wolf exhaled, a cloud of air leaking from her maw, and took a few steps forward, her muscles still incredibly stiff. Once again she paused, and calling out, "Howdy, stranger." The slightest tremor underlay her words, but otherwise she gave no sign of weakness, or aggression for that matter. Unless he was deaf, surely he would notice her then.

Unabashedly, she gave him a once-over. Even laying down, she could tell that he was pretty darn big, larger than most males she'd met. Though not exactly lean, he appeared to be pretty strong. His pelt consisted of blacks and greys and dark browns. Considering her own smallness and her lighter brown fur, an onlooker would have found a pretty striking contrast. To Chabi, it just meant that she'd get extra pummeled, should he decide to attack her. She remained cautious, ready to move at the slightest twitch, but strangely, the tension was slowly dissipating. She had seen, once, loners duking it out over a freshly fallen deer; she knew the dangers of coming across another peripheral. The thing was, though, neither of them had anything to fight over, not really. That carcass was pretty much clean. She nodded to the rib bones between his paws. "I don't think you're gonna get much from those..." Again, her tone was rather neutral, but she had to hold back a prideful smirk. The she-wolf was lucky she'd gotten there first, even if she only had a couple of mouthfuls to show for it.

Adressed: Unnuk
ooc: Thanks, I appreciate it