Myrcella was a cool wolf. She was like most adults she thinks, always giving some sort of cryptic warnings but tempering it with being nice. That was just what adults did because apparently everything was dangerous. Vhagar made a mental note to ask Myrcella later about the story with the rabid squirrel because a NORMAL squirrel wouldn’t do that. At least, it never had before, and Vhagar chased squirrels all the time. So far she had been unsuccessful in catching one and besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. They were like her friends, always teaching and chattering at her. Her great great grandmother (or was it another great?) had been friends with a crow or a raven, so maybe it was in her blood to have wildlife friends. Ha! She would tell Greywind that, see what her sister thought.

She nods quickly at Myrcella, impatiently beginning counting while her ears prick to hear Myrcella race off. A grin adorns her maw as she counts, her numbers rapidly decreasing, the interval between them smaller each time she speaks. Well, she WAS counting to fifty, just faster than normal. The moment the word fifty breaks her lips she jolts upwards as if she was shocked by lightning. Vhagar grins big before a determined look lands on her face.

Time to hunt!

Slowly the princess heads in the direction she had heard rustling, nose out and sniffing everything as she traces the scent trail of Myrcella towards the foothills. Her legs quiver with the need to race forward yet she holds back. If Myrcella spots her first the game was over and Vhagar desperately wanted to go on a hunt. She wanted to show her mother and father that she was growing up and she wanted Greywind to come too.

Everything seems so quiet. She pauses, eyes flicking suspiciously around the area where Myrcella had stopped. The scent trail here is confusing, as are the disturbances in the grass. They go every which way and Vhagar tries in vain to follow one trail until it intersects with the other and she has went in circles three times. Her brows pull down as she scowls at the trail. Well, this wasn’t what she was expecting. Part of her wants to cry foul but she can’t cry ANYTHING lest Myrcella hear her. Biting back a sigh, she begins again, over and over, three times, four times, before finally she decides to split off and move in an ever widening arc. If she is lucky she can pick up where Myrcella’s scent went off elsewhere after she apparently did a good job confusing Vhagar.

After checking behind a random oak tree, Vhagar’s eyes edge up the slope, noticing the outcropping. By now she has checked the western edge and the outcropping is the second place to look, but she supposes hunts could be confusing too. Maybe not like Myrcella had planned since most animals just ran instead of trying to trick.

Vhagar creeps up the slope low on the ground, her belly burshing the grass as she moves like a cougar. Slow steps, purposeful, crouching. Slowly she begins to lift her head to peer over the outcropping…..