Their route took them along a winding prey trail, leaving behind the paths the wolves used. From heavily scented and worn by dozens of powerful feet to a thin ribbon of disturbed foliage. Pushed-aside ferns and nibbled wild grape vines, leading randomly through the thicket. The trail was not intended for wolf, as slight as the two woman were, at times they had to duck to pass unimpeded. There was no wind, but the way was peppered with the scent of woodchuck and the occasional mule deer.

Despite their quietness, both were busily processing the thicket around them. Alert to a fresh track in the soft earth, a scent carried on the weak breeze, or tell-tale animal call. At this time of evening mule deer does beckoned to their hidden fawns with a low-pitched grunt. Anything could come to them and they would be ready to react.

They heard the snap of wood simultaneously. Iopah's entire body tensed, pointed in that direction as if by a magnet. There was no further sound and she remained frozen, though her nostrils worked furiously to bring in a clue. Nothing. The lack of information made her lips pull back, frustrated. She remained still, working through the possibilities as Kite waited behind her. Hares were too small to have made that much noise. Mule deer was most likely, though it could be a large woodchuck. Iopah has certainly caught more than her share of them in the thicket.

And, of course, there was the possibility that it was one of them. A fellow wolf. There were three rambunctious male pups living in the thicket after all. Every day they explored further from the den, much to Iopah's pride... and chagrin. She still owed Unitas that promise.

She weighed all those factors, adding everything up to a decision. She lowered her head, finding swiftly, then indicating a disintegrating mule deer track. She made no noise, in the close thicket sound carried easily, but made a show of pressing her black nose into the tracks. When her gaze lifted it came to rest on Kite, waiting for the understanding to dawn. She slunk from the thicket, flicking her tail sharply for Kite to follow. Now they made even less noise. Four pairs of pads, carefully placed and widely splayed. Keeping from towering oaks, wary of spent and crinkly leaves. Creme and tawny separating into two figures stealing toward the source of the sound. Iopah thrilled at the ease they traveled together with, needing to say nothing and still be rewarded with complete understanding. They were cut from the same cloth. Two misplaced Plains wolves.

Finally the breeze brought what she was waiting for. Mule deer. Her feet stopped, and she turned to Kite, eager to press forward but insisting on making sure Kite had caught the same scent. She had seen too many hunts go bad. Wolves that hurried forward without their partners, or didn't catch the scent until it was much too late. Iopah had come too far to see history repeat itself. As soon as Kite communicated her awareness they would continue.

Now was a time of waiting. Head angled and gazing over her shoulder to watch Kite. She didn't move during this vigil, unwilling to miss a gesture from her that would allow them to continue. It almost hurt to stay still, to hold back and simply wait. Iopah had already caught the scent and, even though she wasn't hungry, the readiness to hunt was strumming through her. A mixture of that anticipation and her own natural intensity made her gaze sharp. Solid gold eyes did not waver from Kite's face.

Finally the other's head turned away suddenly and Iopah's ears fanned forward attentively. She watched Kite glance about, but her gaze did not turn to follow her companion's. The silent vigil was broken at Kite's nod. She blinked away the sharp expectancy, and her lips drew back in a grin.

When she stepped forward Kite was close by. Aside from the distinct scent there was no other trace of their quarry. A few minutes slipped by in a silence marred only by the soft brushing of their limbs. The scent grew and split into multiple animals. Iopah's ears flicked back in consideration. The thicket was thick and dense up ahead. In such a small hunting party, their similarity was a slight disadvantage. Neither of the women were large wolves. They were meant for chasing, winnowing out the weakened, and guiding them toward a large waiting wolf. But they had no such brute, it was just them. She drifted closer to Kite, near enough for pale fur to brush against tawny.

Her head curved around to murmur between them. She breathed, "Close, quiet", trusting the other to understand. Any second now the deer would come into sight. It only made sense to separate if they were going to drive them in a particular direction. There was no hidden wolf, so the direction this chase took was irrelevant.