Beqanna’s wolves didn’t take long to lure him in.
They talked about the Hot Land often - how strange it was that they were drawn to it, the creatures there not often the sort of prey they usually killed, but surviving all the same. A Playground, almost, for pups to grow in, a Vantage Point to leave the pack in even as the able-bodied hunted beneath the Red Trees and the Fall Trees. A place with a weird calling, but nevertheless Home.
The names that horses gave it meant nothing to the packs, and Lone-Star the wolf did not get exactly all the information he needed or wanted; but nevertheless he is drawn to the west whenever he’s not Cyneric the horse, and even then he’s curious.
He follows the pack of Moon-Eye and Rabbit-Fur today until he’s in the jungle that they mentioned, and says his goodbyes to them that night; he rests alone as he always does, for then he takes the shape of a horse. When he wakes, the colt explores the volcano-jungle’s landscape with his eyes, but as they day passes, he finds his food more easily as a wolf. Besides, he’s always been more comfortable in his predator fur.
However, as he tracks a fowl or some other kind of bird, he finds the scents of others he does not know; hackles rise on the loner wolf as much as they probably do on the others, and he stalks low towards the ground, his unusual bright blue eyes searching for the source. It takes a while - then his nose picks on something else, something familiar, and he stalks closer without realizing it.
Only when he crouches out of the bushes and towards the other wolves and the horses, he realizes his mistake and his confusion, a soft whine escaping the adolescent as he looks from one to another. Attack? Submit? Run? He doesn’t know.
@[may] @[Tamlin]