Hoshor Plains the long black train

for @Mojag <3

arktos had settled into a routine fairly easily: wake up before the sunrise, offer his wife a kiss on her cheek, snack on whatever scraps he'd tucked into a haphazardly dug cache the night before and follow the bison herd's freshest trail. it's a decent sized herd, and every day the warbear watches them closely, monitoring their numbers, their movements — pleased that they do not appear to cross the borders he'd begun making — trying to suss out which one ( or few ) were their leaders.

if they even cared to have such a thing. surely, though, like their canine counterparts the herd had one or two that they looked to. or perhaps they didn't. perhaps he was trying to fit them into the same box as his kith and kin.

they were herd animals but that didn't mean they operated like a pack. still, there's a larger bull that he keeps a keen eye on suspecting that if they did have a leader it might be him.

after spending a few hours shadowing them — but making no attempts to hide: wanting them to know he is there so they did not spook when more joined. or heaven forbid, when yellowstone had eager and naive pups to wrangle — he heads to the borders to continue where he'd left off; lifting his leg to mark the soil that he turned up with a few kicks of his paws.