RE: Spieden, you need to hide your paw prints in the snow...
She had been gone two days, practically unheard of for the busy leader. She'd told not a soul where she'd gone, and if she had her way, they would never find out. The night after had been spent alone, once the heady rush had worn off she'd put as much distance as she could between the male, running off into the shroud of dark without a word of explanation. She had wanted nothing more than to curl up in the security of the warm pack den, but instead sleeplessly hid beneath a hollow log until the first light of day.
She wasn't sure what she had expected it to be like, and while the ache of longing had left her, it had been replaced by the hollow pain of regret and fear. She had never felt so stupid and foolish before. What had been done had been done, and it was out of her control what her body decided to do with that fact. She could only wait.
Spieden knew she couldn't stay out there forever, there was a pack to run, one that was down two of its core members. Her sense of duty just barely overrode the shame, and she made her slow, arduous journey back home. She followed the contours of the creek, her paws submerged in the shallows as she walked with halting steps, each stride shorter than the last as if she could delay her inevitable return. The water would pull away her scent and the current would cover her tracks in the streambed, but it could do little for the guilt that etched her scarred features.
She had waited well until nightfall to even cross the borders, taking every back-route and underused path she knew once she was forced to leave the creek behind. She wouldn't allow the treacherous snow to even take hold of her tracks, scuffing them over with hasty swipes of her tail to lend just enough plausible deniability. As soon as she made it to the edge of the clearing, her eyes meeting the massive oak at it's heart illuminated by the pale light of the half moon, she stopped in her tracks. She usually slept in the den, but surely everyone would notice her slipping inside in the dead of the night, and even if they didn't voice their questions aloud, the very thought of what they would think of her burned humiliation hot against her cheeks.