There were packs nearby, other wolves; this could potentially become an issue for him.

He shifted uncomfortably, attempting to ease the tension that riddled his body. He peered out across the pass, westward, watching the rocky terrain turn quickly into a wide expanse of green as his eyes traveled further out. There wouldn't be much he could do to avoid them other than stay out of their territory, and he had been doing that successfully for something like a year. It shouldn't be too difficult now. All he had to do was keep to the higher altitudes and travel away from fresh scents. Most wolves tended to make their homes in the greener areas, but he was all too accustomed to the terrain that surrounded him now. There only difference here was incline as opposed to altitude. He might run into an issue if someone was seeking him out, but in his year of seclusion, he hadn't had that problem yet.

Unfortunately, much as he might like to think it, he was not an unsocial creature. He was as curious as ever about who lay down the other side of the pass, and he hadn't been completely secluded for the year. There had been the odd loner he had come across and even shared pleasantries with; after all, it wasn't individuals he had such a struggle with.

Undecided, he loped northward, retracing a path he had already become accustomed to.

Setting up camp hadn't been a decision he had taken lightly and now that he had, he was sure he would live to regret it. It allowed him to think of some sort of permanence in the territory that surrounded him and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it all yet. Considering his last place of residence... his nose wrinkled with marked distaste and something like bitterness flashed across his face. Well, let's just say the jury was out.

There was something eerie about walking in a place he’d not yet become accustomed to. Movement wasn't free. He was much more aware of his surroundings... the squirrel that flung itself high from one branch to another a few feet away, the sharp crack as one rock hit another, displaced by some clumsy animal who had a misstep on the already unsettled terrain, the heady scent of the loam where moisture collected to create green areas between the rocks. Such was the case for Mateo; but then, that had been the case for some time now. He become used to his travel weary habits. The way his eyes flickered constantly around the terrain, inhaling deeply every so often in order to test the air for new scents, the little radars that his ears had become, constantly in motion atop his head. He took no note of them now, merely the information they brought to him.

He hadn’t moved too far away from the area that concealed his den. A small outcrop rose low in a nook of a slope where it lay sheltered. Looking down towards it, one would expect it to be nothing more than a pile of rocks, covered by a sparse growth of foilage. He hadn’t been paying particular attention in that direction, pointed as he was north. However, as one might expect, he became rather distracted as the earth began to tremble beneath his feet.

It started suddenly and was just as quickly bone jarring, the roar of rock colliding with rock, earth rolling over itself, consuming his entire body. His eyes widened and he hunched low to the ground, looking wildly about for the sudden impact that he expected. Quickly finding that the earth was not opening beneath him, his eye caught movement as he craned his head around to see what was happening.

It was easy enough to see what had cause the tremors; the rocks that jarred against each other were coming to a slow halt, the roar dying slowly away while his body dealt with the aftershocks of having the earth shake beneath him. His body had turned unconsciously as his head did and he was now facing southwest; the direction his den lay in. Perhaps it was unsightly, but one would have to forgive Mateo for the slack jawed expression that hung on his face. The slide had completely cemented his den into the earth. Not even the telltale foliage could be seen beneath the newly laid grave of rock.

He gaped for an instant longer, blinking dimly at the sight that now lay in front of him.

It was only the loud scuffles and high pitched giggles that brought his jaws together with a click and snapped his head to his left. His body tensed, legs stiffening along with his tail as his eyes narrowed in the direction the noises were coming from. Already on edge, he was quickly working himself into a paranoia. Of course, he didn’t have to wait long before his paranoia became a reality and a darkly colored wolf leapt through the bushes from the south, tumbling about like a rag. His gaze bore into her own, lip curling ever so slightly as a shot of adrenaline rushed belatedly through him. He took in the sight of her, speculative before his gaze shifted momentarily back to the rubble that had killed off the birth of his den.

His ears lay back across his skull, pinned down by the sheer exasperation he felt suddenly empty from his chest in a deep sigh. Really? Had that really just happened? A few more rocks jittered free from the loose mess of rubble that now lay down the side of the incline, completely covering the path and the entrance to his recently hollowed out den. Live to regret it, he’d thought. He could have mocked himself with ease had he found the situation funny. As it was, he was now without the small sense of familiarity he’d managed to claw out in an unfamiliar terrain and apparently now in the company of an equally unfamiliar wolf. His gaze shifted back to the wolf, a cold glare settling on her. His body remained tense and distinctly unfriendly, hackles raised ever so slightly in his irritation. Even his look said quite plainly: This is you’re doing. Now what are you going to do about it?

Indignant. That is the word to describe this situation.

Really, there was no way of knowing for sure that she had caused the rock slide. It wasn’t her he had seen, only the aftermath and her willy-nilly antics moments after it stopped. Unless of course he asked and she actually admitted to it. Regardless of whether she had caused the slide or not, she certainly seemed to be unaffected by it. Lucky her. She probably had a home to wander back to. Either she had mastered the ability of controlling her emotions completely (in which case, hats off) or she was completely ignorant of the danger that either one of them could have been swept away with the slide had they been standing in the wrong spot. Even his higher location wouldn’t have kept him safe had the rocks loosened beneath his feet and followed the others down the slope.

His cool gaze rested on her. Her words conflicted with her actions; one saying she had no idea what the look on his suggested {blame}, while the other was in the midst of cautious apology. Uncertain of what she had done, but already willing to apologize for it before she was even sure she had done it. Or so it appeared.

He was torn. Torn between merely walking away and finding another location to build upon, answering her and letting her know how annoyed he was, or getting rid of some of the adrenaline that was rushing through him and giving him the shakes because it went on unused. If he asked himself honestly what he wanted to do, he really wanted to just walk away and go for a run by himself. That would be the easy thing to do. That’s what he had been doing for months now. Dealing with things on his own. Coming to this area certainly hadn’t changed that. He’d come into contact with wolves and had less interaction than the wolf that stood before him now. It hadn’t bothered him then, so why should it now?

Making up his mind on the spot, he leveled his gaze on her once more more before he turned to move away, moving only to the side in order to keep her, at least, within his peripherals. He didn’t need some sort of sneak attack happening if this wolf was up to no good. Whatever that may entail, he was already convinced she had started the slide, whether one purpose on on accident, he couldn’t say. He also wasn’t entirely sure if she would follow him or not. She seemed harmless enough, given her attitude, but one never could tell.

How amusing. For the years he had spent fighting wolves, his family no less, who wished to keep him in his designated place, he could have no more stopped his reaction than he could have stopped breathing. Clearly, they had left their impression. Mateo was stubborn by nature; he was proud by conditioning and he would not stand aside while someone insulted him for something they knew nothing about. His ears flattened against his skull at the tone of her voice, body already whirling to face her so that she was fully within his sights. A snarl ripped from his throat, hackles raised, and limbs stiff as his lips peeled back. This female was treading on dangerous ground. His eyes flashed, teeth clicking together in the cold air; a clear warning.

Even as his eyes focused on her form, suddenly contrasted with the tone that she held just a moment before, he didn’t alter his stance. A distrust had already started forming the moment she had first spoken to him and she furthered it now. To suggest he was running when she knew nothing more than the sight of him was insulting; Mateo did not run from his problems. He had been thrown from his pack; he had not walked away freely. But this female knew nothing about that. She could only know that where a mildly indignant wolf had stood before, an insulted, angry wolf stood now.

Had their interactions started differently, he would have been curious about her past. He would have asked her what had happened to her. He might even ponder over it in the future. But as it stood now, she had been judged, and none too kindly.

He stood on higher ground than she, slightly elevated as she stood to the south and he in front of her. Already he was calculating the ways in which she might come at him and the ways in which he would react. This was not a new scenario to him; he had been here before. This was familiar. His words were uttered in a growl that reverberated through his chest, harsh and raspy from disuse. “You know nothing. Nothing more than what is in front of you.” He fought the urge to clear his throat and instead turned it into a ragged snarl. “Walk. Away.”

The ‘or else’ should have been clear from his stance.