With little idea as to where she was or where she was headed, a small scrap of a wolf climbed out of the meadow and up the frosty knoll. When she had arrived here in the summer every territory was breathtakingly beautiful, but now it was difficult to even recognize the lands she had traveled just a few short months ago. The afternoon sunlight had melted the ice down in the meadow for easy travel, but the warm rays had not yet reached the shaded knoll above. It seemed that with every step she took, the little tawny wolf slid two back, her hind legs unable to make traction on the icy slope. Paws numb with cold didn’t help the situation either. Pausing her efforts, Naia bent down to lick her paws, wiggling her claws as best she could to coax some feeling back into her feet. When she was satisfied, she turned her honey eyes toward the skyline to check her progress up the hill. Closer, but still a ways to go. With a resolute sigh, she tucked her head and pushed on.

Logically, the climb was probably a waste of valuable energy considering she had no idea what she might find at the top-- probably just a lot of nothing, if the barren meadow below was any indication. She couldn’t just wander aimlessly though, that would drive her crazy. The hill was a challenge, one that she could conquer with enough effort and perseverance. It helped her put her more difficult challenges out of her mind, at least for the time being. While she was focused on climbing, she didn’t have to wonder where her next meal might come from, or how she might defend herself if she came across a hostile loner, or how on earth she would survive winter without a pack. She didn’t have to think about the sudden, swift collapse of her Pitch Pine Trail family or grieve the death of her beloved alpha. One paw in front of the other she made her way up the hill, postponing all worries and concerns for when she reached the ridgeline.

A sharp caw jerked Naia’s mind away from the climb, and she turned her honey gaze upward toward the source of the sound. Several fat, raven-feathered birds sat a few wolflengths away at the top of the knoll, watching her progress with interest. The wolf nodded politely at the birds before continuing forward. Naia’s birthpack had taught her to always let crows be, since these birds carried the spirits of fallen wolves on to the afterlife. She wondered if one of them might be carrying Shade and smiled at the thought of her alpha being so close.

At last, the tiny female reached the top of the ridge, one quick scramble away from standing on top of the knoll. The crows cackled at her as her feet slipped, but Naia chose to ignore their mocking. With her luck, if she swatted one it would be Shade’s, and what would he think of her then? As she pulled herself over the top of the ridge, a feeling of triumph rolled over her from nose to toes. The birds, hardly bothered at all by her presence, cheered her victory with caws and the female took a mock bow.

It was right then that what Naia had mistaken for a snowy boulder rose to its feet. Naia froze, watching the ivory giant shake out his pelt just a few leaps away. He appeared to be a young male—a very big, very hungry looking Lone male. The tawny wolf shrank toward the ground, watching with fear and slight fascination as he scratched at the melting snow. He seemed irritated and more than a little groggy, and Naia couldn’t help but let out an unexpected giggle. ”I’m sorry, I think it’s my fault they woke you” she spoke, loud enough for the giant to hear. ”They were laughing at me.” She shot an annoyed glance at the group of birds before turning back to the stranger. Though her speech was friendly and easy, her stance remained poised. She knew better than to relax in the presence of a strange wolf-- especially a giant, Lone, hungry, not to mention already annoyed male.

The female’s own honey eyes widened as the giant captured her in his fiery gaze, studying her. With eyes like that along with a ghostly coloration, he appeared almost demonlike to the girl. Despite his rather menacing size, Naia got the impression that he was still fairly young though she had trouble putting a paw on exactly what made him seem that way. While she was still a member of her birthpack, she had served as a pupsitter and eventually a teacher to the pack’s youth when she was still but a teenager herself. Despite differences in personality, she had noticed that all the pups interacted with a certain confidence and liveliness that older, more jaded wolves lacked. Even in her own short but overall pleasant life, Naia had been rejected, banished, abandoned, and attacked by other wolves. She had experienced starvation, loss, and lonliness. The life of a wolf is difficult, and only the young are unscathed.

The spectral stranger smiled at her and then shook his head at her words. “Do not apologize for them,” he told her simply, and the heaviness in his tone amused her all the more. Of course the birds could not be faulted for acting within their own nature—the idea was ludicrous, and the seriousness with which her companion discussed the subject was droll enough to elicit a silly grin from the young female. Curiously, her companion faltered after he spoke, seemingly unsure of himself. Worried that he might have thought she was laughing at him, Naia stopped grinning and cocked her head questioningly. He broke their strange silence by introducing himself, and Naia wagged her tail at the sound of his name, which was very similar to hers. ”Nagga. I’m Naia,” she told him, a smile sneaking its way back onto her face. She wondered if he would find the similarity amusing as well. He seemed more relaxed now, which prompted Naia to relax her stance as well. If he was going to attack her, surely he would have done it by now.

The moment was interrupted by a tirade of excited squawking from the crows, and Naia sighed at their interruption. Both turned their attention to the flock, and Naia agreed with Nagga’s assessment. The birds had definitely found something, and it was the right of the wolves to have first claim. Though it was the natural order, Naia couldn’t help but feel sorry for the crows. As an omega in her birth pack, she knew the injustice of being the first to find a meal but the last to eat it. As the two approached the crows’ object of interest, they fluttered just out of reach, squawking their indignation. Naia nodded apologetically to them but followed Nagga all them same. Though she had compassion for the creatures, she wasn’t about to turn down a possible meal.

Peering around the male’s massive form, Naia studied the half-frozen corpse in the snow. The dead pronghorn was a scrawny thing, and with no injury on its emaciated body it didn’t appear to be anyone’s kill. It must have wandered off from the herd and just wasted away, Naia reasoned, shuddering at the thought. Naia was not a vegetarian by any means, but the sight of the withered body deeply disturbed her. If this was what became of a lost animal separated from its family, what was in store for her, a slight little thing without a pack? She needed to find a new pack to call home. Immediately.

An idea struck the girl suddenly, as one often does during her moments of alarm. Naia was well aware that she was unimpressive in appearance, especially to a leader seeking strong wolves to bolster the pack’s ranks. Most alphas that looked at her would see her as nothing but a burden, another mouth to feed. Perhaps if she approached a pack’s borderlands with a meal as an offering, it would serve as evidence that she could indeed contribute. A flank from the pronghorn would be perfect; small enough to transport but still large enough to provide sustenance. The only problem with that plan was that the giant male was standing over the carcass hungrily, and Naia wasn’t positive he was willing to share. If he wanted it all, there wasn’t much Naia could do to prevent him from taking it.

”I’m pretty small,” she said softly, “I don’t eat much. Just a flank would be enough.” Even a flank was a lot to ask of him, she knew, since the body of the starved pronghorn offered little nourishment. Naia had learned that you can’t get what you want unless you ask for it, but that was about as assertive as she was going to get. She too was a diplomat, though it was a result of her pacifistic nature, not formal training. Her first priority was to always to avoid a fight, even if it meant giving up a meal to a more territorial wolf.

So he can smile, Naia noted with delight as her ghostly companion relaxed enough to return the gesture. He certainly looked less demonlike without the serious expression—the gaze which at first had seemed chilling to the girl had taken on a warm, glowing appearance that reminded Naia of the brilliant summer sunsets she used to watch when she made her home in the Mountain of Dire. ”It’s nice to meet you, Naia,” he told her, and she wagged her tail in an expression of the same sentiment. It had been quite a while since she had run into another wolf who simply wanted to chat, as Nagga seemed to. A warning bark or a territorial growl was the most she normally received from other loners. More than once she had wondered if perhaps a wolf lost the desire or even the ability to communicate through speech if he or she had been alone for long enough… after what she had seen in her travels, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. This lone male’s friendliness intrigued her, and she reminded herself to find out more about him once they had eaten, if he was still in the mood to talk.

After she made her request, Naia shifted her weight awkwardly as Nagga looked back and forth between her and the pronghorn. He seemed to be debating with himself, but he gave no clues as to what he was deciding. If he was any other loner, the tiny female would worry that he was mulling over whether he was going to attack her or just tell her to get lost. As it was though, Naia thought they had shared a moment of understanding during their introductions—neither of them seemed to want to end their interaction. It was for this reason that Naia hung onto hope that the ghostly giant might grant her request. He knew that if he gave her a haunch to chew on, perhaps she would stick around.

“No,” he sighed, the vapors of his breath collecting around his face before dissipating in the surrounding air. The friendly smile had left his features, and he once more adopted the serious expression that made Naia nervous. No. He said no. He had denied her request, and she tried to keep the disappointment from showing on her face. Of course he said no, she chided herself. Maybe they had connected a little bit over the crow discussion, but a meal opportunity among loners changes everything. She knew that, and yet she had let herself hope anyway. Strange.. she used to be so perceptive of others’ intentions. When had that ability lapsed?

Thankfully before she could despair too much he continued to speak, ”It is young and scrawny, and you will take at least half of it.” The girl’s honey eyes widened in disbelief. Far from denying her request, he amended it—he wanted to split the pronghorn evenly, pathetic though it was. ”Whichever half you want,” he added, and Naia thought her ears might just be deceiving her. Not only did he want to half the meal, he also wanted her to eat first. The slight wolf couldn’t recall a single time in her life when she had eaten first. The custom in both of her previous packs was to eat in order of rank, which unfortunately left Naia chewing on bones most of the time. Once again the tawny female found herself wondering about Nagga. Even if he was desperate for company, allowing her half of the pronghorn was much more than was necessary in order to keep her around. Perhaps the customs were different in his pack of origin, and this was his way of being polite? Whatever the case, Naia was grateful for his generosity. Her first instinct was to thank him out loud, but she stopped herself before she spoke. The male’s tone of voice had been firm and insistent—as if he thought that half the pronghorn was her right and not an extraordinary gesture of goodwill on his part. Remembering his reaction earlier, when he was taken aback that she apologized for the vicious noise of the crows, she thought perhaps he would not appreciate her thanking him for a meal that he seemed to think she already was entitled to.

”A flank for each of us then,” she told him, a brilliant grin spreading out over her features. As she approached the carcass, she brushed past Nagga with a nudge to his shoulder. Even though she had decided against verbal thanks, she hoped to communicate her gratitude with the gesture. ”Please eat with me Nagga,” she requested before she started in on the meal. The flanks could be saved and transported for later, but the majority of the pronghorn would have to be consumed here and now. She began chewing her way through the flesh and sinew that connected the exposed rear haunch to the body of the animal. Every now and then she swallowed a bite for herself, but she was most concerned with detaching the leg. Once her work was done she would enjoy the rest of the meal. ”So Nagga,” she asked between bites, ”What brings you to these lands?” After residing in Relic Lore for half a year, Naia recognized a new wolf when she smelled one. ”Are you looking for a new family, or are you escaping the old one?” Those were really the only two reasons any wolf came here, right? Naia supposed it was possible that he simply enjoyed living alone, but then again anyone that longed to be alone would have been much less receptive to her company. Ochlophobia was unusual for wolves, but not unheard of. She asked the question in an offhanded manor, leaving him the option to answer with a joke instead of the truth if he preferred. Though she was curious, she understood the personal nature of the question and if he chose not to answer her she would more than understand.

Chewing through the frozen flesh of the pronghorn proved to be no easy task, and every now and then Naia flicked her gaze away from her own work to check Nagga’s progress. He had taken up a position on the opposite side of the carcass and was also busy detaching a haunch for himself. Though she was distracted by her own project in the moment he met with success, she was alerted to his triumph by the shudder of the carcass between her jaws accompanied by the sound of flesh ripping and tendons snapping. The tawny girl postponed her own work to watch Nagga place the detatched limb carefully to the side, wagging her tail in a congratulatory way. Encouraged by the ghostly wolf’s success, she gave her own flank a tug, applying powerful traction to the limb while gripping delicately so as not to break the bone. A broken flank would be obnoxious to transport, flopping everywhere and likely to fall apart. Spurred on by the promising popping noises coming from the joint, Naia braced the carcass between her own front paws and tugged harder. The joint finally released, and the remaining attached flesh tore audibly as the slight female stumbled backward. One last punishing shake from the girl and the limb was free.

With the flank still in her jaws, the female celebrated her and Nagga’s success by cocking an eyebrow playfully. She nestled the hard-won limb beside her, pushing several pawfuls of snow over her prize in reaction to some obscure instinct. She was satisfied when only the cusp of the hoof remained peeking out of the snow. Her ears flicked forward as Nagga began to tell his story, much to Naia’s delight. There were few things that she enjoyed more than a good meal, but a good story was one of them. She listened with rapt attention as he spoke, the meal all but forgotten as he transported her to a world of Amazonian tradition and shamanism. The Amazon Warriors were legendary in her birthpack—the subject of exotic bedtime stories told to pups snuggled up in their dens. Nagga’s background in such an alien lifestyle fascinated Naia, who experienced what she thought to be a very unremarkable upbringing herself.

Naia found herself nodding along with the pale giant’s story, even as he revealed his royal birthright. Though she herself was of decidedly plebian ancestry, his desire to escape the tiny compartment carved out for him by his parents was a relatable one. It seemed to Naia that many wolves abandoned their packs of origin under similar circumstances—her included. There had not been a place for her in the rigid hierarchy that she deemed acceptable, so she left to discover her fortune elsewhere.

Naia tilted her head as Nagga described his birthpack’s formation, her curiosity toward his history only growing. Pacifist as she was, the politics behind his parent’s decision interested her to no end. With such an obvious division in their pack—a warrior class and a religious class—how could they possibly expect to promote peace with any amount of success? Doubtless there were rules and customs that Naia was not aware of, but even so it was Naia’s opinion that they were doomed from the start. Even if Nagga’s parents were successful in “making more heirs” –as the male put it himself—who was to say that they would be able or willing to run the pack according to the inarguably strange vision of their parents?

Even as she contemplated this Nagga spoke of possible revolt himself, confirming her suspicions of the precarious positioning of the Thrakon monarchy. He did well to get out while he could! Naia thought, grateful for Nagga’s sake that he escaped before his pack could be torn apart by dissenters. Perhaps the laws had seemed ironclad to Nagga and his parents, but Naia doubted that the arrangement between the Amazon and the Priest would have survived another generation.

Nagga cut off his story just as it was getting interesting, but Naia chose not to pry further. He had shared much more than the original question had called for, and Naia supposed she could be satisfied with that. For now. ”Not at all!” she responded to his insinuation that he may have bored her, ”I love a well-told story.” She hoped the compliment might encourage him to share more, or at least assure him he needn’t look so apologetic. She smiled as he guessed at the name of her homeland, nodding her head to confirm that he was correct. ”Yes, you’ve found Relic Lore,” she chuckled, ”Refuge for misfits like us.” Now that she knew more about him, she fell easily into her playfully casual manner of speaking. ”Only since summer,” she replied to his question, ”When I came of age, I also had trouble falling into the rigid pack hierarchy set in place by my ancestors—although I chose to embark after the snow melted..” The phrase possessed the barest hint of teasing. Though a harsh winter as a loner was hardly something to laugh about, he seemed to be getting by well enough to tolerate some good-natured humor about the situation. ”I was chasing a dream... The Wolves of the Hidden Tree were a legend in my birthpack, thriving in peaceful prosperity for countless generations. Though I never found the Hidden Tree pack, I fell in love with these lands. This is an enchanting place in the warm season, I assure you.” She shared a wry smile with Nagga, knowing full well that his first impression of Relic was a bleak one. ”I made my home with Pitch Pine Trail by invitation of Shade Slayer, our late alpha…” she skipped a beat in her sentence when she spoke his name, ”And after his death the pack collapsed. I only just made it back across the canyon before the snows swallowed the route.” Remembering the meal in front of her, Naia bent down to bite into the underbelly of the pronghorn as she awaited Nagga’s reply.