The windblown marsh was spread out in front of the tawny wolf like a freshly made bed, pristine snow soft and inviting. Young though she was, she knew better than to trust its deceiving appearances. This now was her third winter, and she could recall with bitter amusement the several times that she had found herself plunging into a deep snowdrift that was previously indistinguishable from the surrounding snow. Travelling northward, she had just crossed the giant meadow under similar conditions, and she had been swamped in snow up to her chin. The memory was enough to call up a shiver. Naia was aware that staying in the treeline to circumnavigate the meadow would have been the better option, but if she did that she chanced a run–in with the Evil Pack. Just the thought of Them made Naia bristle, a low growl rumbling in her throat. What unimaginable cruelty: sending a broken alpha home at the start of winter to die in front of his family and orphan his children. The Shade Slayer that Naia had known and loved with unshakable loyalty was not a violent wolf, so in her mind They were the savage beings, attacking to kill without any provocation. Perhaps it was naïve of her to think this way, but it was not in her nature to doubt her leader’s virtue.

Here at the edge of the marsh however, she was starting to doubt her own resolve. Crossing the marsh would be a similar experience to that in the meadow, and she was hesitant to make such a difficult trek again. Perhaps she should turn back and seek acceptance with the Cave Pack. She had caught their distinct, claylike scent as she traveled through the trees at the northern edge of the giant meadow. Though she could hardly afford to be picky at this point, the girl balked at living in a cave again. She had resided in a cave for several weeks during the summer while exploring the great mountain in the Pass, and she had detested the way the strong scent of the cave clay lingered on her pelt, tainting and damping smells from the outside world. She much preferred sleeping below ground in a den carved out of light and fresh-smelling dirt, like the ones from her birth pack and in Pitch Pine Trail. Her situation would have to be much more desperate before she sought refuge with the Cave Wolves.

It was decided; instead of going straight through the marsh, she would travel around it in the treeline. Unlike the giant meadow, there was no Evil Pack on the outskirts of this expanse to deter her. In fact, she would welcome coming across a strange pack’s border markers, as she was currently searching for a new home. If the scent was right she would not hesitate to join. Naia had never experienced a winter outside of a pack, but instinctively she knew that a small wolf like herself would great difficulty surviving the entire winter on her own.

Just as she had made the decision to avoid the marsh, movement on the far side of the expanse caught her attention. Naia smiled to herself as she watched a dark wolf charge straight through the marsh. It didn’t appear that the dark stranger was chasing anything or being chased, so he must just be running for the fun of it, which was an activity that appealed to Naia’s carefree nature. She half-wished she could join the frolicking, but it would be a waste of precious energy. Still at the southern border of the marsh, she hopped into the air and barked, hoping to catch the stranger’s attention. If the stranger had the expendable energy to charge across the marsh, he or she was either a well-fed pack wolf or a high-spirited and playful loner, either of which Naia was eager to meet. She stopped barking briefly to knock some snow over the pronghorn flank she had set down in front of her while surveying the marsh. The flank was a gift to whatever pack she sought to join; she would feel very foolish if it was stolen by the strange wolf after she had purposefully attracted it’s attention. When she was satisfied the bone was hidden, she looked back up to determine if the dark shape was approaching, or if she would have to travel into the marsh herself to speak with him or her.

Naia continued to bark encouragement to the stranger, wagging her tail as she noticed him alter his course to come hurtling toward her. As he came closer Naia confirmed that he was in fact male and a good deal larger than she—but then again, who isn’t? Though she couldn’t be certain yet, she also thought he might be younger, taking into account his playful bounding across the marsh. Matching age to behavior wasn’t always foolproof of course-- Naia herself was evidence of that. While her littermates grew into diligent, no-nonsense personalities, this tawny runt remained jocose and moony.

”Hi there—“ she started to call out as he came within earshot, but her voice faltered when she realized that he wasn’t slowing down. She took a few steps back in confusion, and the movement gave her just enough time to catch an impish glint in the boy’s puppy-blue eyes. In her birthpack Naia had served as a babysitter and eventually a teacher to the pack’s youth, so she knew this look all too well. In fact, she was struck with a vague feeling of déjà vu, thinking for the shortest instant that this might actually be one of her former students. But no—he was clearly a yearling, and she had no students from this season; she had spent all of spring travelling to this place.

She quickly ducked her head to brace for the impact, which was really all she could do at this point. As she was hit she caught the stranger’s scent, which was an ambiguous mixture of pack smells and those of a wanderer. The two tumbled over in a heap of fur and limbs, and when they came to a halt Naia still felt a little rattled. Many strapping young wolves like this lad didn’t yet realize the force of their own strength, especially against a delicately-built female like Naia. She shook her head in an attempt to get reoriented, bracing again in case there was a second charge. Who was she kidding-- there was always a second charge.

”Okay, okay!” she barked through giggles. ”Mercy! You win!” The tawny female flopped over onto her back in mock-defeat, hoping that would placate the young male. For the sake of theatrics, she let her tongue loll out of her mouth like she was dead, but the effect was diminished somewhat by her inability to keep her sides from heaving in silent laughter. One honey eye opened to peek at the stranger, curious if he was at all amused by her performance. Kids were sometimes a tough audience—they tended to be more honest than polite.

As the stranger’s nose snuffled and teeth nipped at the sensitive skin that joined her body and foreleg, it was all the tawny female could do to bite her lip and hold the dead-wolf pose. Doubtless that move would have been crippling to a younger wolf, and this young male had probably enjoyed much success using this technique against his littermates. She felt the dark lad draw away from her, probably confused that the older wolf wasn’t fighting back. Just as she peeked open a single honey eye to assess his reaction, she felt him plant his body weight directly onto her upturned chest. Naia let out a surprised “Oof!” as the weight of her companion’s body pressed her into the snow. It seemed that the boy had a dramatic streak as well, and Naia grinned in amusement as he lifted his chin triumphantly.

”I claim this mistress in the name of Cut Rock River!” he bellowed, and Naia erupted in a fit of giggles that was strangely punctuated with labored gasps for air. Coming to the conclusion that it was impossible to breathe and laugh simultaneously while being stood on, the female wriggled her body in an attempt to topple him off. The youngster was a good deal larger than she, but since he was balanced precariously on one leg with the other drawn up in a pose she was confident in her ability to free herself. Just to be sure, she buried one hindpaw in his underbelly to shove him as she twisted. Perhaps his lack of experience with gravity would be his undoing.

”You claim me?” the dainty female sputtered in mock indignation. ”Is that so?” She lifted a questioning eyebrow at him. ”And what—may I ask—is Cut Rock River?” A note of amusement remained in her voice as she was still playing with the yearling, but it was a serious question nonetheless. If it was the name of his pack, she would be curious to learn more about this Cut Rock River. That was the reason she had called him over here after all.

Naia immediately inhaled when the youngster transferred his weight away from her chest. The question had distracted him from his attack, and Naia took advantage of the diversion by rolling into an upright position. She shook the snow off of her head and neck before flicking her ears forward to listen to the dark male’s explanation. It was exactly as she thought—the River Wolves lived just across the marsh, and this strapping young lad was one of them. She committed the name Maksim Baranski to memory, knowing she would use the information later if she met the leader himself at the border. She almost told the young male that she was looking to join up with Cut Rock River, but she stopped herself before she spoke. It was better to let it be a surprise later if she was accepted than for him to get his hopes up before she had even approached a leader. For all she knew, this Maksim fellow could turn his nose up at another Pitch Pine Trail refugee.

Naia nodded as the swarthy youth spoke of the flooding last autumn. She hadn’t heard of Darkwater Rapids before or their plight, but she remembered the storms from the previous season. It had rained so much that Naia nearly forgot what the sky looked like. If Darkwater Rapids had flooded, then they must have been located somewhere in the northeast—those lands had been hit the hardest by the rains. ”Are you telling me you crossed the Pass as a child? Cut Rock River pups must just be tougher, hmm?” She complimented him with a playful bat at one of his ears, though all playfulness aside she was pretty impressed. She had only crossed the mountain twice herself, and she wasn’t in a hurry to do it again.”So am I in the presence of a Prince, then?” Naia asked, aware that she had yet to learn her companion’s name.