Katja made note of the tracks in the snow - though it was winter prey was not so scarce that a pack would starve here. There were snowshoe hares and squirrels abundantly enough, and ptarmigan and grouse besides. She caught faint traces of many larger prey species who likely came to the scent of water from the falls. This low, the footing was not treacherous but far above her she could see the naked stone sides of the mountain, the perfect environment for dall sheep.
As she crept through the underbrush surrounding the base of the mountain a strange scent was carried to her - similar to, and yet unlike the scent of Skaelingr, the tiger she had once allied with. She paused, one paw raised still, on the verge of a clearing, and then there it was. He was definitely feline, larger than the tiger had been but not beautifully marked as the other cat had been. It was pale, pink skin showing around the mouth and eyes that spoke of albinism even before one looked into its rosy eyes. Most of its - his - fur was short like Skaelingr's, but there was a profusion of long silky hair around his neck, nearly like a horse's but more encompassing. He greeted her in the common language, and she tilted her head cautiously. "Good evening," she returned gravely. "I am Katja Finnvi, of Yfir." She wondered why he was so far north - unlike the tiger this cat seemed to lack a certain profuseness of undercoat that would make it comfortable in this environment, despite the camouflaging effect his albinism granted him. Whatever his species, she did not imagine it to be a northern one so it seemed unlikely that his presence here indicated they were prevalent in the area and so was irrelevant to the suitability for a pack land.
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