Big Salmon Lake northern soul

:D

Quixote curled his path back towards the lake he had visited... Oh, it was not too long ago but damned if he kept track of the dates other than to note that it was getting colder.  He had maybe a month to work out something unless it was a warm winter.  No rush.  Yet.  Or at least that would be what he'd keep telling himself.

He wanted to try fishing a bit more before the lakes became walkable, and that was his reason for heading that way today.  Quixote was feeling a bit more comfortable with the world in general, even if wolves here didn't always act the way he was expecting them to.  Things, from his limited experience, seemed rather paradisaical, but if he knew what was rippling beneath the surface of some of the packs, he'd realize that this place was no different -- it was just better at hiding conflict.

His footsteps took him perpendicular to the trail that had been left behind a female's earlier wanderings.  He paused, taking a moment to analyze the scent.  Packwolf?  Well.  As a lone, it would likely pay to be curious more than it would to hide in a corner somewhere, and thus he decided to investigate.  He trotted off along after the scent to see who it was that left it behind.  He apparently wasn't too far behind, as soon enough a similar inkblot appeared heading to the lakeshore.  He was moving at a slightly faster pace, closing the gap until he got to within a reasonable distance.  'Whuff,'  was the sort of polite barked note to say he was there, and assuming she didn't turn out to be a rabid snarlbeast, he'd approach for a conversation.