Ranger's Apprentice [Mask]

Most of Mask's life had been spent as Enrico, consigliere of i Fratelli Rossi. He'd worked his way up from associate to soldati to capodecina before he'd achieved that rank, and one simply did not get that far without having a natural talent for survival and an aptitude for observation. He then spent quite some time as Enrico, pentito, on the run for his life from a man equally well versed in their work, knowing that at any moment any former member of his cosca could come upon him and would be required by honor to seek his life. His time as Mask, hunter for the relatively peaceful, quiet Celestial, had made up such a small portion of his total lifespan as to be nearly negligible.

So when his patrol (very different from the rest of the pack's, as it involved observing the movements and numbers and types of prey animals within the pack lands rather than guarding the borders) was interrupted by a subtle pawstep and the rustle of dying grasses being moved aside, his attention was immediately caught.

His breathing did not quicken, his steps didn't pause, and he didn't betray his knowledge by turning to look. Instead he kept his movements nonchalant, circling around the prey sign - old hoof prints from a muledeer buck that had passed this way - that he was clearly studying with casual interest. His circling just so happened to bring him to face the soft sounds of approach, but he kept his head down and used only his peripheral vision to watch for his stalker.

He was well within pack lands, so it was most likely simply one of his packmates... but if so, why the attempt at secrecy? Why not approach him openly? It could be that they were hunting and just coincidence that they happened to be following the path he'd taken, but he had not survived as long as he had by believing in coincidence. It was most likely a Celestial wolf... but it could also be an intruder.

There was a pause in the pawsteps while the stalker was still hidden, and it was all Mask could do to not tense up. Had the stalker discovered that they'd been had? Or was he about to be attacked?

When the grasses parted though, it was not to reveal a leaping wolf with vengeful fangs, but rather a very distinctive yearling with a polite hail. He lifted his head from the track with a strange mixture of relief and... disappointment? Maybe part of him missed the old days, when a stalker really was a life-or-death situation, missed the adrenaline and the challenge of that life. Was he growing tired of a life as a tame hunter in someone else's pack, with no one to lead even if he did gain rank? "Buongiorno, principessa," he greeted, inclining his head in polite acknowledgement of her rank. "What might I be doing for you?"