i won't let you be the death of me [nicky]

He was interesting. Not that Nicky had conjured up any preconceived notions about him in the few seconds between her words and his reply. She was good at that; not judging or making assumptions based on outward appearances. It was rare for her to meet another canine for the first time without approaching it with an open mind. The male wolf was cheery and a little sheepish when he realized that he had the misfortune of accidentally spooking her meal. The wheels in Nicky's brain turned and let the pins fall into place. So he wasn’t slow on the uptake, their collision had simply been a lapse of alertness, a normal error, not a commonly occurring mistake. That much was unmistakable when she stepped closer and saw the brightness of his eyes. He wasn’t one of those dogs that practically hummed or vibrated with barely controlled excitement, like an overgrown pup. He also wasn't one of those stone-cold animals, when there was such lack of emotion that they could be mistaken for a solid sculpture. The small wolf was expressive enough for her to read without second-guessing and that was certainly something that she could appreciate. In fact, he seemed like someone who would tell her how it was, right to her face, just the way she liked it. The truth hut sometimes, but it was far better for it to sting for a bit than to be babied and carried along on half-hearted, lack-luster speeches. The coyote didn’t just give smiles away for free, but she found that one had slid onto her face before she had the time to think twice about it, meeting his amber-hued gaze with her own.

She looked off in the direction that the rabbit had bolted, wiping the grin off her jaws. It took its sweet time in fading.

“You’ll just have to owe me one,” she said, shaking herself off and sitting. Her shoulder stung, most likely because it was where his shoulder had hit it, but it was very muted feeling, like maybe there were only pins and needles in it and she had slept on it for too long. Nicky shrugged both shoulders, a slight rise and fall. She tried not to make it very obvious, moving the large muscle groups in an attempt to loosen them up and feel it out so she could isolate the ache. “So tell me, Red, where are you headed?” she asked. She knew there were a myriad of things that she probably should have asked before taking such a direct route, such as introducing herself, but Nicky didn’t particularly care for small talk. She already knew, by the smell of him, that he had not yet aligned himself with any of the four packs in the area. He seemed friendly enough and she had half a mind to invite herself to tag along with him. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. She wanted to know and hadn't asked the question just to strike up a conversation. Nicky tried to always know her intentions and never tried to hide them much.

Truth be told, she was running out of things to do. Solitude was fine; peaceful, relaxing, and all that, sure. She had never spent so much time alone before and she would admit to missing some aspects of living in a pack. Not enough to go and a make the rash decision to join one of the Eastmoor packs, but enough that she fancied the idea of consistently being around others, just with a little more independence. Now that she thought about it, Nicky doubted that most packs would even accept a coyote into their ranks. She had yet to even run into her own kind and she had lived here for a while. Long enough to see many different breeds of dogs and even wolves. She didn't mind it. She liked being and uncommon sight to see. The coyote took another slow breath, a gentle inhale and exhale, at ease with her surrounding and company, tail tucked loosely around her hindquarters. She pretty much had her mind made up with this red wolf now. Even if he didn’t want her to come along, how hard would it be to tail him? Not very. He was most definitely the most interesting canine she had met recently. Something told her he'd be worth it to follow.

“You can call me Nicky,” she added as a final afterthought. No one remembered her given name. Mostly because she never told anyone. Even her parents hadn’t called her Veronica. She’d always thought of Nicky as her name, so Nicky it was when she introduced herself to others. The female coyote looked pointedly at him, clearly expecting an even trade; a name for a name. In the grand scheme of things, names didn’t really matter. That was her opinion. It sure made addressing individuals easier when in large groups, she’d give it that much. “Or I could keep calling you Red,” she prompted. “Don’t know about you, but it’s kind of grown on me.” She smirked and rose to her feet, her narrow face angled cheekily in his direction. It was almost a dare, how she had phrased it. Would he take it? She had an inkling that he might. Yes, he was certainly interesting and Nicky liked it.