“There,” Miskwaa said with a satisfied huff, releasing the prey from her grasp and taking two steps back to appraise their handiwork. The moose carcass, its side ravaged by the last canines to make a meal of it, lay just before the flattened bed of flowers than Ziigwan and Miskwaa had taken to calling their own. And beside the cadaver stood her ghostly helper, the pristine white of his muzzle smattered with red from their find. “Well done,” she said and gave him an approving nod, chest heaving slightly from the effort exerted. Ultimately, though the woman may not have seemed so one the surface, Miskwaa was excited and quite satisfied with their find: luck was shining upon her, if only for today.

Now to get her uncle here so he might enjoy the good news she and Alphinaud had quite literally dragged to their doorstep. She took a small step away from Alphinaud, a movement which may have been written off as idle restlessness; in reality, she wanted as much distance between them as possible while calling for her uncle, though the distance remained civil and friendly by her standards. The cinnamon-toned wolf tipped her chin back and let loose a commanding howl, her tone rather low for a female. Her song echoed excitedly through the trees and the surrounding flower petals seemed to hum with the power of her voice before Miskwaa lowered her maw and fell silent. She stood utterly silent, apparently unaware of the awkward silences she was so prone to creating. Instead, her golden gaze darted restlessly about, searching for her uncle's approaching silhouette amid the surrounding foliage.

With only two of them, there had been no need for long-distance communication. Ziigwan and Miskwaa would, most nights, find themselves back at their den, where they discussed their day's endeavours and made plans for the next. This low-profile existence was only one of the many things he was having to get used to. Still, when a rising howl sounded out over the Rise, and he instantly recognised the voice and its command, he could not help but be momentarily alarmed. Was something wrong? In his paternal panic it was easy to mistake its excited summons for distress, but a heartbeat of pause let him digest her tone. She was not afraid.

Once fear was ruled out, only curiosity was left.

Instantly he gave up the late-night scouting mission he had placed himself on, easily obeying the commands of the girl he had followed here. The song added another small piece to his attachment to this land, for now they were calling each other back to their den, and you only did that with a place you lived. Slowly, his heart was readjusting itself.

Dark as it was, he could not see her until he was quite close (though since he had travelled across the Rise to reach their spot, she had probably spotted him already) though his nose had already given him the full picture. It seemed that he had come onto the tail end of the path she had taken to get back. The smell of blood, of death, of meat - and a considerable portion of it, and he would have wondered what she was doing with a moose carcass if not for the third scent. The moment of recognition had brought with it a low chuckle, though he was surprised that Miskwaa was comfortable bringing him back to their lair like this. Perhaps Ziigwan's cautiously optimistic opinion of Alphinaud had meant something, and now they had met and he assumed that Miskwaa approved.

Thus he was not surprised to see the both of them there, if the size of the moose did made him giddy for a moment - he had not had the opportunity to eat so much in so long. Glancing at the form of Alphinaud, the grey wolf trotted to Miskwaa, planting a welcoming kiss on her muzzle before turning about to face the both of them. "Don't tell me you two actually brought that thing down. Or are you more formidable than I thought?" he asked, mostly in jest, looking towards the white male. "I think it's a little more than we're able to cache up here, though."

Minutes passed by slowly and quietly with little but the rustle of the fields to fill in the reticence. Finally, the sound of paw steps and short breaths caught her attention and the cinnamon canine focused her attention on the approaching man, peering keenly at his silhouette. The excitement bubbled merrily in the pit of her stomach — or was that hunger? It was hard to tell, but whatever the case may be, Miskwaa felt rather giddy at the evening's accomplishment. She nudged her uncle's cheek in response to his affection, tail wagging but once in a gentle, eager fashion.

“You doubt your own niece?” she commented lightly, and if not for her own self-assured nature she may have been offended. In truth, how they had gotten the carcass here mattered little — the fact that they did meant everything in this moment. This sentiment showed in the small smile that adorned her muzzle and the proud set of her shoulders, her chin tilted slightly upwards and ears trained eagerly forward. And in spite of this satisfaction, the young woman did find it necessary to advise her companions in a measured tone, “It was a lucky find... Eat your fill, it's unlikely we'll be so fortunate any time soon.” Though, of course, this much was probably obvious to them, but Miskwaa felt the need to remind them — and Alphinaud, in particular — all the same.

That being said, it occurred to her that it was time to eat... And time to cement her status as superior to the two of them.

She sauntered forward, slipping past her uncle to situate herself before the stomach of the beast. It had already been torn open by other carnivores, but the importance of this gesture was not lost on her. When it had been just her and Ziigwan, dominance had mattered little — why should it when you were sharing scraps to survive? Why should it when they were quite comfortable in their role of uncle and niece? And so her molten gold eyes shifted from her uncle to rest on Alphinaud's pale face, daring him for some moments to step forward and challenge her on this triumph. Before he could act, Miskwaa leaned forward, jaws parted wide as she shoved her snout into the beast's abdomen. She took a few bites and then yanked hard, pulling a trail of slimy, bloody entrails with her as she retreated some steps. The catch was open for either of them to make their move and though her statement had been made, Miskwaa watched on curiously, chomping on the meat she had secured.

He did not rise to Miskwaa's bait, choosing instead to simply grin in her direction. He wouldn't dare doubt her, how could she think such a thing? Alphinaud was more modest, and Ziigwan did not miss his use of the word 'we' - innocent, perhaps, but it was a subtle change in his perception of Miskwaa as the strong independent one, needing nobody else. It wasn't a weakness. He was proud of her for being able to work with someone else like that. She was a survivor on her own, and quite possibly an adequate leader, but if she could not follow - or, at the very least, work alongside - then she would not be able to lead.

Of course, Miskwaa promptly decided to make an obvious point on that matter, moving towards the carcass after inviting them to eat.

The order of their feeding had been far from a priority between the two of them, as though there was an implied hierarchy with Miskwaa on top, they usually treated each other as equals. Dominant behaviour didn't seem important without a pack's structure to give it real meaning. Here, with three of them, though, and Alphinaud a relative stranger to them... Ziigwan found it deeply interesting that she chose to make her stand now, though he was not at all surprised. Her gaze had quickly shifted from Ziigwan to Alphinaud, for that was where her display was aimed. Her uncle took close note of it too, however. Glancing at Alphinaud, curious to see his reaction, Ziigwan waited a few seconds for Miskwaa to bloody her muzzle before slinking forwards to bloody his own, making no attempt to go before or after the white male. This wasn't his dance to join.