Busy with his game of toss-the-rock, Hickory hadn’t noticed the other wolf until he was set to pounce on the pebble and his pale gaze caught a flick of movement quite near where the stone had landed. The red wolf straightens up from his pouncing position to stare curiously across the shallow stream at the black and white she-wolf. He has never seen anything quite like her, not with such striking markings, and for a while he just stands quietly, his dark tail waving uncertainly.

But then she says hello without seeming bothered by his presence, and Hickory prances across the icy creek with light steps, his tail held low and swishing with his prancing body. The red wolf’s body language is much more pup-like than the grown wolf he really is, but his easy going temperament suits him. With his flop ear, bright eyes, and sharp-toothed grin, Hickory is the very embodiment on non-threatening as he approaches the female wolf. He has noticed even in his short time here, that the wolves in these parts seem to have something beyond typical pack hierarchy. In most cases, he would assume that this wolf is just as much a loner as he is, and yet he’s seen several wolves wandering about alone that are actually members of packs. He’s not sure how he feels about this yet, but this stranger seems friendly enough for Hickory’s liking.

His youthful prancing slows somewhat when he’s across the water, and though he pauses briefly to lick one red front paw dry, he doesn’t bother with the rest before he meanders down the bank toward the other wolf. She’s lying down, so he does the same, scooting the last several inches towards her with a friendly whine. His wagging tail displaces a few smaller pebbles since he’s close to the ground, but his good ear is pricked forward curiously as he says. “Hey. I’m Hickory.” and then, because he’s Hickory, he adds: “You’re very pretty.”