Cool water pulls softly at your feet, soothing your scraped and roughened paw pads. It seems to you that you've been following the river for ages, across rocky ranges, abrasive sands, and forests with hidden sharpness to their foliage-heavy floors. You close your eyes for just a moment, relishing the babbling of the stream and the refreshing chill of the water. When you open your eyes, it is to the sight of a young, thick-furred wolf sitting in front of you, head cocked to one side, watching you intently with curious eyes.

Are you intruding? Trespassing? The wolf before you doesn't seem aggressive, and even if it was, it was young and still some months shy of maturity, with legs too long and face too narrow. You take in the wolf's scent, noting that the youngling in front of you is female and thick with pack-scent-- and spice? Whoever she is, she's not alone, but she seems so small to be so far from the rest of her pack...

"Are you lost?" The sweet voice pulls you gently from your thoughts.

You lower your head sheepishly-- you must seem so foolish. "Not quite. Just roaming."

"These are pack lands. These forests and streams belong to the Cinnamon Cinders." The young wolf seems to be chiding you, and yet her voice is still soft with floral tones.

"I didn't mean to disturb your pack, or anything like that. I haven't even hunted since I left the prairie. I swear."

"The prairies belong to another pack, and the deserts belong that to another. It's not safe to wander here. Don't worry, though, our Queen is kind and brave and she won't mind if you visit!" Definitely a youngling. Cute, though. You decide you'd rather visit this pack than risk being caught by another, less friendly sort.

Following the stream leads both of you to massive tree with white bark and strange red leaves. The tree is gnarled and burled with age, but the bark is smooth, with red sap dripping from old wounds. Twisted knots of white roots create the entrance to a large main den, and nearby another, smaller den is formed out of a rocky jut, with fallen rock adding extra cover to the sides of the overhang. Wolves of many colors mill about, but it is a she-wolf with a dark pelt dominated by marks flaxen and bistered who notices the two of you. She lopes across the small clearing, bright blue eyes shining in the darkness of her facial markings.

"Where have you been?" The older she-wolf's voice is smooth as honey. She doesn't acknowledge your presence.

"Scouting!" the youngling replies, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she pants happily.

The darker wolf paws playfully at the younger's head, tussling fur and ears and causing the adolescent to laugh and pull back. "You're no scout yet, dearest. One day you will be, but until then, don't stray so far. There are bears out there big enough to eat a little pup like you!"

"Mom! I'm not a pup! And bears don't eat wolves!"

"Not yet they don't, but you might just be too sweet for them to refuse!" The mother pounces on the juvenile then, pinning her down and grooming her fur with determination lighting up her eyes. The youngling lets out a small yip and tries feebly to wiggle away.

You stand there a moment, awkwardly, until the younger wolf manages to nip at her mother's side and escape. The elder wolf's eyes darken some at the sight of you, but she remains friendly. "And you are?"

"I found them on my scouting mission! They're friendly."

Well?

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