Porcupine Ridge well, this is fun

He had not seen much of the gray boy, and it occurred to him that he had not so much as spent any one on one time with him since he had given him the tour. His responsibilities had kept him astray, but the black wolf was determined that he would know each of his pack members as individuals, and so did not hesitate to turn onto Romulus' trail when the wind drifted his scent to him.

Upon nearing the wolf he caught trace scents of blood and hare. It seemed the yearling had been hunting. Two weeks in a row their attempts at large game had been unsuccessful, and even the black wolf could feel a soft pinch in his gut; small game, while delicious, never filled the belly like large game.

"Romulus," he greeted with a waving tail as he approached. "Had some success hunting, did you?"