Wandering alone and lost —lost without a pack to run with, a leader to follow— through the pouring rain of the highlands, You have no destination to move towards, nothing to look ahead for. Yet, Your paws keep pressing into wet grass, Your legs keep moving forth slowly, even as the cold beats through fur and trickles down to skin.
There is only the fresh-wet-sharp scent of rain on grass, soaking deep into the soil beneath, so terribly alien it feels, with the unmoving expanse of gray above with nary a glance of blue. Only the cold below and the cold above.
Then, You see a flash of something, bright and warm through falling sheets of gray.
It is enough to give You pause, head lifting and burnished eyes turning to that something, hoping to catch another glimpse through the deluge. Quicksilver moments stretch into eternity as you stand there, ears straining to hear anything else than the roar of rain, nose lifting slightly in an attempt to find anything other than the ever-shifting rain-earth-grass smells.
Nothing happens.
You wait a heartbeat longer, then turn away, a strange sort of disappointment biting inside.
It is then —when You regard the rain-sliced air before you with resignation— that You notice it: something moving in the corner of Your eye, bright and warm through the falling water. The wavering shape of a wolf, brightly visible even through the driving wetness, golden-furred and edged in red, approaching swiftly.
As the golden stranger nears, seemingly unbothered by the downpour, there is more to be observed about their presence. There seems to be no ill-intention; the set of their posture is neutral but edged with curiosity, or friendliness.
You remain motionless, deeply hoping that there will be no attack —daring to hope that this is a wolf looking for a packmate— as You watch with keen eyes, ears shoving forward in attention. Yet uncertainty threads tension in and around Your muscles, whether for a battle or for flight, You cannot tell.
The stranger slows to a stop. You raise Your head in the same moment. The both of you are still, observing.
A pair of luminous yellow eyes peer through the gray, attached to a night-black shape that stands a step back and to the side of the stranger, surprise-laced-defensiveness jolts through You as You finally see the other wolf. Ears turning back slightly, muscles tensing further, You
with the stranger: black as the night, luminous yellow eyes turned towards You. Th
Hunter 
Hunter