Female age four imprint: none Loner
Raptor watches the alpha relax his stance a bit. Not so much that she had been afraid before, but unnecessary tension had been there, her brain warning of possible signals of impending doom. A twitch, a stiffness, a curled lip. She was not one to take assault lightly, had it come to that. Not when she had not offered insult or injury. But she is glad it has gone smoother. A brief low pendulum wag of her tail clarifies the relief at lessening defensiveness, odd lavender eyes flicking over him to read his body language. It was her first language. Her best language. She feared she would never be completely at ease with speaking.
She watches his shoulder shift. An opening, a possibility. Hope. Things that she felt had previously been lost. "Raptor" she replied. It was a fitting name, a fierce bird of prey with wicked talons and a death grip. Raptor could not fly, but in other aspects she fit her namesake well, as her mother used to point out the creatures, feasting on their catches, tearing chunks of meat from fresh bodies. She was proud of her name, its meaning.
Raptor also allows herself to lower her haunches to the dirt. Not tired, so much as reciprocating the gesture. She has traveled, but she is used to it, as a loner roaming is a normal part of existing. Brown fur is summer short and rough. It had never been a striking quality, for she preferred to run and hunt rather than bother to bathe or groom. It might not look beautiful, but it still protected her from the elements, and that was all it mattered to her. She might never when a beauty contest, but covered in blood was a better look anyways.
"No family" she adds after a pause, to clarify it is herself alone she speaks for. And a good suggestion as to why a so far successful (read: alive) loner might enjoy a pack rather than stay free. |