Word Count → 685 :: Sorry for the wait; I didn't notice this was up. :c Aaand my post is rambly.

To hear that her Halifax acquaintance was leading a flourishing wolf pack both troubled and heartened the young hybrid. On one paw, it was something to be wary of due to the closeness of the coyote clan, but on the other, she knew that Zalen was only fitting to the task. He was like a king reclaiming his rightful place at the throne, one whose blood sang with dominance and wildness and who had the intelligence and strength to make this work. She would be lying if she wasn’t happy for him, despite the potential challenges that lay out before her, such as convincing her Aquila that, as of now, the New Dawn pack had no ill will toward Inferni. She would remain as vigilant as the coyote leader, however.

Right now, Vesper was taking a brief detour; whereas she had intended to head straight back home, the familiarity of travel invigorated her. Lungs swelled with the thin mountain air, and hardened paw pads fell down on the sloped ground. She was heading northwest into territories familiar to her, that of the marshy isthmus that connected her adolescent world to that of the Nova Scotian packs.

Skirting around the young pack’s territory, keeping a good mile or so of padding between her and the border to avoid drawing unwanted attention to her scent, she ran along on the soft ground. Marsh and snow and pine needles cushioned her footfalls and filled her nostrils with new, delightful scents. She could smell where travelers had crossed, both those wearing the smells of her new land and the rich aromas of far-walking canines that came from beyond. She was reminded of her own journey, her tail wagging in amusement at her first step on the mountain. She had hardly known what she was getting into, then.

Vesper galloped through the smatterings of forest and the snow-covered swampland that extended from the shore. She was exhilarated and nostalgic, often fancying that she remembered some of the quirky land formations that she passed. She delighted in how far she had come, a scrawny fight-picking yearling evolving through blood and hardship into a high-ranked member of a pack. She allowed herself a rare moment of optimism, of dwelling on the past, abandoning realism and vigilance in the presence if but for a moment.

Because, a moment later, the scent of another wolf jerked her back into reality and jerked her body to a halt.

Blue eyes narrowed and ears lowered as the coyote skulked around the vegetation, trying to pinpoint the stranger. Depending on who they were, she might want to leave instantaneously or otherwise check them out. She would be curious to meet a traveler from the outside, and in the code of loners happy to let them know about the lands they were about to enter.

She paused among some stubby bushes, head lifted suddenly as she spotted a silvery shape lunging across the ground toward a rabbit. She was about to leave them to their hunting when a particular physical quirk grabbed her attention: the lack of a limb. Her body froze, her own legs aching at the sight, but against the odds the male captured the small animal and killed it, dragging it off to eat.

Vesper frowned, undecided; it would be risky to approach someone at their own kill, but she could smell faintly the scent of New Dawn in the wintry air. It would be an interesting opportunity to talk to one of the pack’s members out on neutral territory, and it was one that she decided not to pass up.

She moved cautiously toward the male, abandoning her near-silent tread so that he would be able to hear and see her coming from a good distance away. Her gait remained casual rather than stalking, confident enough to show that she had no need to skulk about and take his prey. It would be a good few hours until she felt the need to hunt herself, anyway, and stealing a kill from one of the wolves would jeopardize the relationship she had with their alpha.