Northstar Vale I will find out where she has gone

Warbone had not yet left the chambered vale, harbored on all sides by all manner of unpleasant foothill; not since descending here. Upon discovering that the scent of Ridge wolves had all but evaporated to the north, the tactician saw no need to travel further. He had chosen the Keep on strategy— secluded, barred by mountain and ravine, festering on one side with protective marsh and also touching territories bleeding with prey— and he was not surprised at all to know the wolves living there had survived the famine. The vale was just as opportunistic. He had known this before, but was not keen on settling where his pack might readily compete with another. Hubris said he could prevent that now.

Mine.

He smelled her first, but familiarity did not stop him from approaching her stiff-legged and tail flagging. It did, perhaps stave the show of his teeth and remembering the passion she had given him did as well produce a small wave of his burnished copper banner, but his one eye regarded her evenly. And his silently resounding stance read: come to me, or get out of my space.