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The boy was really no longer a boy. He was almost a yearling, ranking high with in the court and on his way to making his place in the stables. Alder did not consider himself an adult yet, still living in his brother's house and staying close to the pack lands. He had heard of other packs to the north and east, though had yet to go anywhere near them. They were strange places, too far for him to go and through miles and miles of neutral lands. Who knew that kind of beasts he might meet there.
He moved west instead, partnered with the bay mare that was his companion in most traveling situations. Black hand held her lead rope and on her back she carried blankets and a few pelts. He had tied a rope around her stomach, tethering the gifts he hoped to trade to her. The tall male's pace was constant, moving briskly but not so that he was out of breath by the time he made it to the borders of the tribe. Thoughts went back to Nayati, thoughts that had been whirling in his mind since their meeting. He came back to see his mate, a horse caretaker.
Alder couldn't picture her, not even a muddled image of what the female could look like. Nayati was tall, noble looking and with eyes and a pelt that were clear and spotless. What would the woman he had taken as his partner look like? Black foot-paws found themselves at the fence, familiar scent filling his nose to the brim. He would find out soon, tipping his head and reaching deep in his chest to sing a baritone call of someone who smelt of horses and had worn strong hands and one voice to speak with wolves and another to speak to horses.
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