She knew she wasn't allowed to be here; it was possibly the one and only fact that made her presence among the crowded, snow-laden trees more enjoyable than it really should have been. Her tracks through the forest, leading out and away from the pack's everyday routes and highways, were easy to follow but she fancied the idea that maybe today no one would come looking for her. Her father, she was certain was busy scouting out more territory towards the eastern edges of their borders, elbow-deep in concern about why some coyotes and foxes were starting to find shelter within the Cedarwood. Her mother and brothers, on the other hand, she was somewhat confident they would at least give her some time alone. Humming a random song to break the silence that filled her ears, she dared to trek further into and behind the tall, ice-trimmed bushes.
With her head held low to the ground and her tail swaying to and fro behind her, she inhaled the wild scent of the Thicket, picking from memory the scents she could recognize. After some time her interest waned; and, suddenly, it did not matter who these random travelers were or where they had gone. Several meters into the woods and Taima was clearly on her own. With a keen eye, she scanned her surroundings, her mind conjuring up around her an imaginary pack of her own wherever there was space to spare between the gnarled trees and snow-covered vines underfoot. She smiled over her shoulder, pretending to exchange glances with a masked man whom she had appointed her pack Keeper. Though invisible to any other viewer who came upon the scene, this weathered man was tall, svelte, and extremely gentle. In her eyes, she watched as he silently came forth to brush his shoulder to her side.
This gentleman, she visualized, could just about size up to the men in her family. He was serious unlike Ryvet, modest unlike Renier, understanding unlike Borden, easy on the eyes unlike Kade, and familiar unlike Uncle Danton. Compared to them, this imaginary friend held a lofty position in Taima's mind. He let out a bark heard only in her ears and she let out a loud yip of her own in reply. Then, as though she had been spurred into action, she bounded to the closest tree trunk and dug her nails into the frozen bark before dragging herself downward. Proudly, she glanced her work, examining the long uneven marks with a critical eye. She stepped to the next tree and repeated the action on five other cedars and firs. As far as the young Lyall was concerned, this small glade now belonged to her and her make-believe prince.