A little rough and tumble

Wynter moved through the Mile-high Woods, her senses alert to every rustle and scent that filled the crisp northern air. Ever since she and Ansem stopped that pair of snow leopards from stealing from their pack, she had taken it upon herself to do extra patrols around the territories to try and spot intruders early. Her deep blue-tinged black coat glistened in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above as she moved with silent grace, her muscles coiled and ready for action. Her parents would likely disagree with her patrolling on her own like this, but she didn't want them stopping stop her either so she kept her patrols a little secret just for herself. It wasn't as if she thought she would encounter anything actually dangerous here. Maybe predators thought they could test their luck by moving in on Armada territory from time to time, but this was still a pack full of wolves and that alone kept the vast majority of them away.

The tranquility of the woods was shattered by the sudden intrusion of an unwelcome visitor–the unmistakable musky scent of a mountain lion. Instinctively, Wynter's ears pricked forward, and her sapphire eyes narrowed with determination. With a low growl rumbling in her throat, Wynter swiftly changed course, her movements calculated and deliberate as she closed in on the source of the intruder's scent. Her senses were on high alert, eyes scanning the trees as she honed in on where it might have crossed the border. She only intended to locate it so she could call for backup. As she moved stealthily through the woods, using all of the skills her father had taught her in their hunting lessons, Wynter caught sight of the predator–a massive, golden-hued mountain lion prowling through the trees.

She crept closer to get a closer look, still trying to figure out what was bringing these predators into their territory though. Before she could figure that out the wind shifted suddenly, bringing her scent toward the mountain lion and giving away her position. The feline turned toward her and bristled, hissing at her angrily. She might have been able to get away if she turned and ran, but since there was only one of them this time around she decided it was high time she tried out her skills on her own. With a fierce snarl, Wynter charged forward with her teeth bared as she launched herself at the mountain lion with all the force she could muster. The mountain lion, caught off guard by Wynter's sudden assault, reared back in surprise, its golden eyes narrowing with fury as it prepared to defend itself against the young wolf's onslaught.

Despite the mountain lion's size and strength, Wynter refused to back down, her determination fueled by the instinctual need to protect her pack at all costs. With each swipe of her claws and snap of her jaws, she pressed the attack, her movements fluid and relentless as she sought to drive the intruder away from her territory. The forest echoed with the sounds of their fierce battle–the snarls and growls of the combatants mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant call of a nearby stream. But through it all, Wynter remained focused on her goal, her senses honed to a razor-sharp edge as she fought to ensure the safety of her pack. As the confrontation wore on, Wynter began to sense the mountain lion's resolve weakening, its movements growing sluggish and its defenses faltering under the relentless assault of the young wolf. With a final, ferocious lunge, Wynter delivered a decisive blow, driving the intruder back with a combination of strength and determination.

With a defeated growl, the mountain lion turned tail and fled away from the woods, its golden form disappearing into the shadows as it retreated from the Armada's territory. Panting heavily, Wynter watched the intruder's departure with a mixture of relief and satisfaction. A grin spread across her face with a little laugh as she began to catch her breath, her tail wagging gently behind her. It was the first time she had fought off a predator on her own and the mountain lion had fared far worse than she had. All of her training and studying was finally paying off. There were a few scratches around her shoulder and a graze from the feline's teeth on her foreleg, but all in all she felt like she had come out of the tussle unscathed. Her mother would certainly disagree when she saw the minor injuries herself, but Wynter was still very proud of herself all the same. As the surge of adrenaline from the fight began to wane, the soreness from her injuries and the sting from her scratches started to become more apparent so she took that as her cue to head back home.

WC: 807/800

"Wynter Fatalis"