Cyanide & Grumpiness

The little Leviathan moved amongst the shadows, the gold of his coat muted, like a sidenote scrawled on the edge of a page. He preferred to be alone, to be left to do his own thing but knew well enough that being social every now and then was important, key to being a wolf. Like his sire before him, he liked it here, enjoyed the sense of solitude that permeated between the hanging branches. Like curtains blocking all else out, like nothing but the shadows and trees existed. He knew this place wasn't quite as remote as he'd like it to be, that both Armada and Ashen wolves came and went as they pleased.

Finding the paw tracks of another wasn't hard at all, they wove south, ambling and distracted like something was on her mind. And it was indeed her, if his sense of smell was to be believed. Had she come out this way to be left well alone? And why were her prints spaced out so wide, like she was running instead of walking? Dashing over tree roots, leaving smears in her wake as though she'd almost lost her footing for a moment in the wet mud of the riverbank.

If she was looking to run Levi was willing enough to provide a challenge, and hopefully get one in return.