Silvertip Mountain Ring any bells?

He'd been sleeping; he rarely did anything else in the territory, as of late. If he was not out hunting or roving or simply wandering around, he still stayed on the edges of the mountain, away from the hubbub of pack life. It hurt him to do so, but he felt it was best. There was a part of him that felt as those his days here were numbered, and he wondered if one day he simply wouldn't come back. That if after a long day's hunt, he might lie down with his kill, and the next day travel further still. They were troubling thoughts, but made easier to entertain by secluding himself on the outskirts of the community, though he still did his best to participate in hunts and bring back whatever he could to his family.

He wasn't ready to leave them yet, whether on his own or by Steady's displeasure with him.

So he'd been sleeping - and sleeping nearby, at that - and he still felt a strong duty to protect this pack he lived with. His ears pricked at the sound of the woman's howl, and he almost fancied that he'd heard such a call before.

Already on his paws, he moved toward the sound with leonine grace, eyes scanning for any sign of movement. But the woman, when he came upon her, remained still as a statue aside from the constant twitch of her ears. Her non-aggressive stance allowed him to further relax, and as he drew near, her scent began to trickle into his nostrils.

"It's you," he murmured when they stood face to face. She looked healthier than she had then; her coat was full and red, and her ribs fully shielded by a layer of muscle and fat.