knowledge is power

They were in need of a fresh kill. The deer she had smelled a few days back hadn’t left the area, and Surreal wondered if it had lost all hope. Being injured, she would have expected it to move as far away from a wolf population as possible. But as she followed the spore, she noticed that it seemed disoriented. Had its infected injury affected the mind, or was the beast merely daft? Either way, she wasn’t complaining. It was an easy meal, and she had energy to burn. She was about to up the ante when the wind tossed a fresh scent her way. Pack, Northern. Alpha. And Female. Her forward progress halted abruptly as her hackles lifted instinctively. She forced them to lower to her spine. She had no true right to drive an intruder from the land. Not yet. But if this was Yfir, coming to start trouble, she had to intercept it somehow, without stepping on toes and making her future pack an attractive target.

She had heard that Yfir did trade agreements. Could she work that to her advantage in the future? The plains had herbs, bountiful prey life. Something the north had less of, though she’d heard that Caribou tasted pretty good. But would Yfir choose a trade deal, when it appeared that it would be easier to merely steal? Despite the worries of Sonticus, she was, like her mother, one who prefered peace to war, though she wasn’t the type to back down if she had to fight. So, she turned, slipping away from her deer tracking and into a wooded portion of the plains, gliding through the deer paths until she found a place where she could remain hidden but see the guest, as it were. Thus far, she saw only one wolf. The female she had scented. The Yfir was alone, slinking along out in the open area, a fair distance away. From her posture, she was looking about, taking notes. Mapping the area.

A mental ‘ugh’ rippled through her mind. But she plastered a relaxed expression upon her face and padded out to greet the female. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the leader of Yfir. Not when the scent said, so clearly that she was an alpha. So, as Surreal drew close, she kept a respectful distance. There was no cower to her stride, no submission to her posture. The other’s bearing was one of a warrior on a scouting mission. “You’re quite far from home, Monarch of Yfir.” Blunt, no mincing around the bush. But her tone wasn’t rude, merely conversational. Her impression was that Yfir and Sonticus had been the only two northern packs before Arian had moved to the west.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think