Tell Me The Stories Of Your People

The veteran padded along the edge of the pack border. Judging by the scents, this eastern pack was led primarily by a female, and their numbers were approximately ten to fifteen wolves. He meandered slowly, giving himself time to think. He was in the market for offering his services as a warrior in a pack. But he wouldn’t throw himself into any old pack. He wished to move up and make a name for himself. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of a female being the sole leader in a pack; where he had come from, the chieftains were usually male. He didn’t scoff at the idea, either. Females had strengths males did not. They could be damned tactical geniuses. He’d known a female lead warrior who was the sole reason that her pack had won so many skirmishes with their rivals.

Finally, he settled on a decision. He would call for this leader, and see what vibe she gave him, and whether the pack she led would line up with what he wished to find. So he turned, tilting his head up and parting his jaws to call for the leader. It was a low, masculine call, melodious and not at all demanding. His call made, he settled patiently on his haunches, noting the stiffened scabs on his left hip from his first spar on this land. Darkly rimmed ears perked forward as his molten dual-toned eyes sought a sign of approach.