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losing my balance on the tight rope
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-nab-
In order to combat the increasing chill in the mornings, Alacrity had taken to starting the day with a brisk jog. Today's run had taken the foreign female farther west than she'd ever gone before, into territory that was strange all over again. She loved that about these strange shores, half a world away from the land where she was born. The landscape might be decidedly ordinary to natives, but was still fantastic to her eyes. These lush woodlands were a far cry from the seasonal savannas of her youth.
Presently, the figure of a young wolf appeared between the slender trees. Alacrity approached without thinking, despite the fact that the scent of a strong pack hung thickly in the area. But there was something in the face of the other that she recognized - homesickness, or sorrow, or loneliness - that compelled her forward. She neared the youth slowly, giving the other time to acclimate to her exotic appearance. Alacrity broke the silence by tentatively asking, "Do you live here, little one?" Her voice was deep and rich, and although she spoke clearly, it was evident that English was very much not her native tongue.
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