She drew in a small breath behind me.
The alpha lifted its head, tail low, body neutral but alert. This wasn’t aggression. Not yet. This was interest. Curiosity. Mild territoriality.
That could shift fast if we handled it wrong.
“Don’t move fast,” I said quietly. “Wolves respond to motion. Just mirror me.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
The tremor in her voice hit something inside me hard.
I kept my stance loose but tall. I lifted my arms slowly so they could see the outline of my shape. Humans look bigger than wolves when upright. Size deters. Movement provokes.
One of the younger wolves took two steps forward.
Sienna inhaled sharply.
“All right,” I murmured. “Easy.”
The lead wolf chuffed, a soft, questioning sound, ears flicking back and forth.
Good. Not aggressive.
But they needed encouragement to move on.
I scanned the ground, then bent slowly, not abruptly, and picked up a handful of snow. Packed it lightly.
Not to throw at them.
Just to have it.
I murmured, “Stay behind me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, but she sounded far less confident than usual.
The wolves watched every movement.
I kept my body sideways, calm, and made a soft, low noise in my throat that was a sound I’d learned for canine encounters.
The lead wolf huffed again.
His posture shifted, weight leaning back instead of forward.
Good.
I tossed the loose snow toward the side, but not at them.
The scattering sound startled the pack just enough. The younger ones flinched back. The alpha glanced at the disturbed snow, then back at us.
Decision.
Choice.
A small internal calculation.
With a soft grunt, he pivoted slowly and trotted back into the trees.
The rest followed, some with lingering glances, others bounding lightly through the snow. Within seconds, the only evidence of their presence was pawprints crossing the ridge trail.
