Namir had a sneaking suspicion – okay, it was more than a sneaking suspicion – that she might have been better off if she’d stuck around the borders of that pack a little longer. Shit, she didn’t even know the name of it, but the puppies liked her. And wasn’t that a sad sort of affairs? Wasn’t considering joining. Didn’t know any of the adults. But she was friendly with the puppies, and sometimes they fed her and damn, when did her life get so damn pathetic?

The loner gave an angry bark, to no one in particular except maybe herself, and trudged forward into the endless fog. It seemed the wrong time of the year for it, but then again, she hadn’t seen much of it in the desert where she was raised. The water air was weird. She didn’t like it much – or at all.

Oh, but maybe she shouldn’t have been thinking about it so hard. The loner crashed into another and snapped her teeth, ears flattened against her skull as she skittered back away from the older wolf. Her tail swept closer to her hocks as she shook her head, narrowing golden eyes at him. “Where th’ hell are we?”

Oh, great. Another asshole. She was better off when she was running into other girls – or puppies. Hell, she’d had the best luck with the kids! At least they fed her. And they definitely didn’t yell at her. Little Crow’s ears flattened further against her skull but her tail didn’t move, uncertain exactly how to read the stranger. Not only was he rude, but he was rude and useless.

“Y’were here first.”

Which, you know, didn’t mean much if he’d only been there for five whole minutes or whatever, but that was hardly Little Crow’s problem. He was the oaf in the way. But it didn’t solve her problem, and considering how the last meeting went that started just like this? The sandy brown wolf sighed softly before taking a deep breath, trying to find some kind of peace or center or some other bullshit that would allow her to not yell at this guy and benefit in some level – at least more than just wasting her energy on him.

“Well, I’m gonna find m’way down there an’ get a drink. Runnin’, an’ all that. Probably safe.” Wasn’t the same kind of water problems up here. As much as she missed the desert and the heat and the sun, she supposed this forest did have some of its own benefits. “Y’all can come, if y’ain’t gonna be an ass. ‘er stay. Yer call.”

And down she went.

If she could hear his thoughts, Little Crow might have very well laughed out loud. Nasty gods indeed, sending her a useless boy like this. Couldn’t find his way down to water – thought she’d fall first. Hah! Growing up in the desert didn’t mean she grew up where it was strictly flat – it meant it was arid, and that was that. In fact, the little bandit had a fair bit of knowledge when it came to scaling steep slopes. Her small size meant she was Orin’s first choice whenever there was something he wanted upon high, and it was up to her to make it back down in one piece. If she fell, it was hardly the alpha’s problem. It wasn’t like she was worth a damn thing, not as the omega’s child. Not without his blessing.

So she picked her way down to the bottom of the fjord’s side carefully, caring little for the ability of the wolf behind her…or if he followed at all, really.

The fog lifted (albeit only slightly) by the time Little Crow reached the rushing stream and she sighed, satisfied as the cool water ran down her throat. Felt good. It was the little things. She shook her head, flinging water everywhere as she eyed the older yearling. “Well, y’got a name there, ‘er ‘m I gonna have t’ give ya one? Also, stop mean-muggin’ me. I ain’t done a damn thing and y’all ‘er scowlin’ like I shoved a stick up yer ass.”

Little Crow couldn’t help her laugh, little droplets of water dripping from her whiskers as she took a step back, finally giving the stranger a thorough once over. The white mark on his forehead was kinda cute, but other than that? Well, he was pretty plain. And bossy – like the rest of the boys. It wasn’t any different than the wolves in Crow’s Crossing, alpha or not. As soon as he was out of sight, they puffed their chests and barked real loud.

Like a turkey vulture.

Would he vomit at her if he got too worked up?

The youngster bit her lower lip, struggling valiantly against the smile threatening her mouth. “Buzzard,” she replied, biting on her tongue. Fuck, she wanted to snicker. Unless he’d been way south of these woods, there was probably no way this asshole knew what a buzzard even was. And it sounded kind of cool, right? Maybe he’d roll with it.

“Y’ain’t lil’ though. So just Buzzard. Big Buzzard.” She ran her tongue over her lips and turned, starting to pace the shoreline, paws squishing against pebbles and sand as she searched the stream for a slower current, or somewhere shallow enough to wade in. There were probably fish here. She glanced over her shoulder and raised a brow. “Y’good fer anythin’, Buzzard?”

“I’m Lil’ Crow. Little. Little Crow,” she introduced herself, eyes twinkling at the thought. She was pretty little, at least compared to the slab of meat trailing behind her. And she was smart, real smart – a little thief, just like the crows the pack had named themselves after. (Of course, little did the wolves know, the black birds that often stole and plotted were ravens, but that was neither here nor there. Crow’s Crossing just had a real good ring to it.)

Eventually, they came to an ebb where the watered slowed, and Namir waded in, halfway up her forelimbs. There she stood, studying the bottom of the stream as she waited for those little silver flashes to grow brave and start approaching her legs.

“I ain’t needin’ much, not right now. Not yet,” she murmured, voice softer as she waited for the fish. They were just in the corner of her vision, moving slowly, carefully closer, but no where near enough for her to lunge. “Not unless y’know a Fallen Tree Cave. Or a Namid. Or a Kagickah. ‘m lookin’ fer them an’ their pack.” Which was probably pretty obvious, but you never could tell with a brute, just because he asked a good question.