The yearling wasn’t exactly sure what it was that drew him towards rye fields- except maybe a death wish. He wanted to snoop around. He told himself he wasn’t going to come back, wasn’t going to risk bumping into any of the wolves, but he couldn’t help himself. He was a kid in a candy store. He found himself walking in the same direction Ferreiran and him had taken, keeping his head low. He was going at night, when he suspected activity would be minimal. He wouldn’t cross the border this time, he didn’t have a reason to. He was eating fine, but the yearling was persistent and curious. He couldn’t accept his previous defeat. There had to be more to it.

Last time he hadn’t been able to get pass without calling upon the entire pack, sounding invisible alarm bells. It had been a stab in the gut of his ego, the failure of not being able to finesse his way through. Now, he was left with a ton of unanswered questions. Were they always guarding their borders that strongly? Had it just been a fluke? He wouldn’t know if he didn’t try. He inched his way towards their scent markers, but stayed farther from their borders than before, a lot further. Mostly out of fear, uncommitted to the prospect of invading. He could see pack territory, smell pack territory, but not much else. If he ran, he could make it to the borders without losing his breath. He stopped his walking, taking a seat. Was no one around? He squinted, keeping his breathing quiet. He felt the impulse to keep walking, to be reckless, but knew it wasn’t safe. Walking into the territory would be invigorating. A way to say “I win! You lose!” It would be incredibly dangerous. He had gotten away last time by the hair on his paws, and testing his luck (however inviting) was not a smart move.

Still, he didn’t walk away. He wouldn’t. His paws were weighted down by the stubbornness of a skinny, mangy seventeen month old scoundrel. He was considering it. He couldn’t stop considering it. The border was still too far away to see any wolf activity, to tell if anyone was hiding behind the grass, waiting for him to make his move. He was not close enough to be intruding, but not far enough away to have the best intentions- especially at night with his history. He stomped his food angrily. He wanted this so badly- but he couldn't have it. Not if he wanted to live to see the sunrise. 
He turned around, angrily, but only made it a few steps before stopping again. Could he really give up? He looked over his shoulder wishfully and sighed.

The yearling jolted. Her voice had caught him off guard, but was so soft that he relaxed his body. She smelt like them. He tried to place her, tried to remember seeing a wolf with her colouring, but luckily- couldn’t. He let out a sigh of relief, keeping his body still. He nearly had raced off, considered bolting to escape the danger, but there was no need. She didn’t know who he was. He had to hold back the hysterical laughter. She didn’t know who he was! Holy smokes he was lucky. How many wolves were part of that pack? He swore he had met them all day that, but here she was. What were the chances that she would be out patrolling tonight, and not one of the others? He offered her a smile, one that seemed friendly enough in appearances. It was malicious on the inside, a smile from himself to himself. “Vaken.” 


He answered honestly. He had no reason to lie to her, it might even be funner to tell the truth. “What about you?” He stayed sitting, but eyed the female with curiosity. Was she new to the pack, had she heard the stories? He wrapped his tail around his front paws, keeping his body language open. “You got a name?” 


A small grin played at the corners of the boy’s mouth, but he kept it at bay. It was an honest enough question, but not so easily answered. He couldn’t be truthful to this one. What was he to say? I am considering invading? Of course not. He took a little inhale, then let it out. He was quick to reply, perking his ears up and shrugging. “I don’t have a bedtime.” 


He glanced up at the sky, as if just now realizing how late it was. The moon was glowing, half full. It was a fairly clear night, only partly cloudy. He liked being able to see the stars. He slowly made his way back to look at his companion, his breathing even. She couldn’t be much younger than him. She seemed young, healthy. He glanced over her features, her silver eyes, then slowly looked back towards the pack territory. He felt oddly relaxed now that she was here- unstoppable even. “What about you Ris, what’s keeping you awake?”

He wanted to reflect the attention off him. He wasn’t nervous, his voice was steady and unassuming. It was friendly small talk. Not something he was great at, but something he could certainly roll with, especially in this situation. 


Yikes. The yearling had been a little too quick on the trigger. He had gotten too comfortable and cocky in his luck. Fate had punished him for it, determined to keep him in his place. He spotted the large white wolf as soon as he crossed the border. It was not a pleasurable sight. It was inarguably the same wolf that had bodychecked him before. As the wolf approached, Vaken tried to pay him no mind. He didn’t challenge, but also didn’t submit. His body language stayed the same, disconnected and disinterested.

When the man reached him, Vaken cringed inwardly. He looked at the wolf as if caught off guard at his appearances when he spoke, like he had run into an old unexpected acquaintance. It was clear this man was the leader. If it hadn’t been apparent before, it was now. He held himself dominantly, asserting control. The yearling hated that. It put a sour taste in the boy’s mouth. He didn’t try and raise his tail, he just ignored it all together. “I’m not in pack territory,” he stated dryly, gesturing to their scent markers with his tail.

He didn’t want to fight. He hadn’t been looking for one, but he could feel the tension. It was well-deserved. Regardless, the scruffy loner was not fazed. He was following his own self interests, unthreatened by the possibility of a scuffle. He did not notice the pup, or the other woman walking off. He was too busy avoiding eye contact with Laike, a passive-aggressive spit in the face (rather than submission) to pay them any mind.