Bramblepoint Sweet child o' mine

It was the first time Shrike would visit the place where the dead murderer's body was buried- and where he'd asked Sassafras to bury him alive, lest he should contaminate anyone in the pack. While he still secretly held onto the belief that his blood was still poisonous, given that he didn't understand how plant poisons worked, he was quite convinced that he himself had become immune or at least tolerant to whatever it was the female had had in her blood. She had died while he had pulled through- but he would still be careful around his packmates, just to make sure he did not put them at risk. 

The tomb barely resembled a den anymore, and looked more like a small patch in the earth where the grass had not yet begun to grow after having been dug into. It had been a small den to begin with, only large enough for two wolves to fit in, so he did not fear that any other creature would try digging in the same place. Her scent was gone, and along with it, Shrike's insane desire to track and kill. He kicked a bit more fresh earth over the spot, tail curled over his back in contempt, before he went on his way. 

He was slightly surprised to catch Elwood's scent- merely because it was a coincidence to find another pack member outside of the pack's borders, but also because neither he nor Elwood- or many other Caldera wolves- tended to leave the pack very often. He'd only just taken to exploring again, and with curiosity dogging him, he drifted in Elwood's direction, following his scent trail until he saw the male, clearly trying to catch a scent. 

Shrike was smart enough to know the look of a wolf scenting prey, and he knew that it was not that kind of look that Elwood had on his face. He was hunting, yes, but there was strain, anguish and anger in his features as well. Senses sharpening and the hairs lifting along his spine, he approached, sniffing as well to see if he could smell anything that might cause alarm. "Elwood," He said quietly, greeting his beta. "What?" He asked quickly and quietly, hoping he could be filled in so he might be helpful. Shrike was, after all, an excellent tracker, and as determined as a dog with a bone once he got a scent trail.