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Having eventually located the bear's den, Farstep took his leave of Novak and headed toward the territory's core, carrying upon him an ursine stench from rolling at the mouth of it. All who encountered him would know of the bear nearby. He needed no words for that; not only was the subtle smell weaved into his guard hairs, but an expression of concern was etched upon his brow. It might be unfounded—bears were as known for keeping to themselves as wolves often were—but should it prove to be a sow with cubs, then the pack might find themselves in a spot of trouble until they managed to bring her down or remove her from the vicinity.

It was luck that led him to Taggarik rather than intent, but when he sighted the dark-haired alpha wolf prowling the borders between ridge and the thundering mount, the beta hastened his steps. He could sense—and smell—the residual anger radiating from his lead male, but it did little to deter Farstep's mischievous nature as he moved alongside the alpha and aimed to nip at his hip to draw his attention, possibly with a flash of fangs, which would all be in good fun as far as the beta went.