It was gloomy day and Zalen was shut in. By the light of a small fire he had made he was reading his poetry book, something he had taken up doing more and more now that the days were turning gray. The scent of the burning pine mixed with the musty smell of the rain. He paused for a moment, his olive eyes once against brought up to Widow’s spot. She was remaking her web after her earlier one had been ruined by the wind. Now she struggled to connect her gossamer threads against the misting rain that sometimes reached her.
Zalen sighed, and set his book down next to him, he looked out his den into the wet clearing. Maybe he should take a nap, it was midday, however he didn’t feel tired. Suddenly his stomach growled at him and he instinctively put a paw on it. Well, that solved his problem, but oh to hunt in this muck? There were so many things he’d rather do.
Another sigh and the relative silence of the day was suddenly broken but a summoning call. Zalen’s ears pricked up, pupils dilated. It was close, very close, probably at the boundary of his territory. And something about the sound of it was familiar. He stood, hesitated for a moment at the threshold of the den, sniffing to no avail, before stepping out. The rain was even cooler than he expected and he shivered slightly, but headed out at a quick jaunt in a beeline to the border of his marked territory. Within minutes he was soaked, but he barely noticed now that his blood was flowing hot in his veins. Why would a wolf summon here? It wasn’t like this was a pack land, his was the only clear scent around.
He passed the tree that was marked with a large slash which was a sign of the boundary. Standing beside it he took a look around to find the source of the call when he saw her. Immediately his hackles raised, ears flattened, growling in a low, threatening octave he stepped forward, YOU!?
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