pending investigation

[Vicare de Lioncourt]

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to really ask is to open the door to the whirlwind—the answer may annihilate the question and the questioner

lupus form — this post sucks and I is sorry DDD:

The smell of the sea was in his fur, and Vicare was thrilled by it. It was a novelty, to be sure, for though he had seen bodies of fresh water far greater than the Bay of Fundy, he had never come face to face with the ocean before. The freedom of it all excited him and daunted him at the same time, and as he made his way back through the trees that grew closer to the Vinátta border, the adrenaline he had felt still lingered in his blood and in his gait. In this new world, he felt reborn.



In his jaws, he carried the limp form of a fat snowshoe hare in its summer morph. He had caught the creature not too much earlier when it had darted out in front of him, startled by his tread, and he had given chase to sate the restlessness of his body. It was just as well—he would have something to bring back to the pack.



Presently, as he passed the midway point between Amherst and the Vinátta border, the scent of an unfamiliar luperci reached the tawny male. He almost didn’t catch it at first, as his nostrils were currently full of the scent of the hare, but as he strolled through the trees and the scattered patches of sunlight that fell to the forest floor, he came upon a solitary female washed in hues of grey and brown. From a fair distance, she was a small thing, but the scars he saw snaking through her fur warned him not to think too little of her. Her scent, too, spoke of someone more than just a wandering coywolf. She belonged to a pack, she was well-fed, and what she’d been eating spoke of a dominant position in her clan. All this, he could tell from a few breaths.



The rabbit slipped from the Vináttan’s jaws and hit the ground with a gentle thud. He took a single step forward before pausing, facing the unfamiliar female at a diagonal from several metres away.

“Hey!”

Vicare called out, his voice reasonably pleasant without being solicitous. She had been headed in a westerly direction, and he didn’t doubt that traces of pack scent were already making an impression on her. Nevertheless, they weren’t at the borders yet, and he had never been the type to make assumptions and jump to rash actions. Instead, the golden tawny wolf cocked his head slightly to the side in a display of open curiosity, his tail poised above the ground in a position that was neither dominant nor submissive.

“Nice bling,”

he said, eyeing the string of beads around her neck. A half-smile touched his lips, but his tone was not mocking.