Hoshor Plains to the divine, mischievous spark in you

a soft shudder runs through arktos, cutting the wrangler down to size at the pepper of her kisses and nips; delighting in her touch.

there's no rest for the wicked, y'know. he grins, wily; coyly. the borders are entirely established, which means keeping the scents refreshed and patrolled will be easier, he draws in a breath, drinking in her perfume; letting it tease his senses. recruited some into our home and chased others out. he would murmur against her cheek.

been workin' with the herds too, gettin' them used to me, to our presence so they're not spooked. every day, though, he was learning something new about them.

how 'bout you? arktos inquires, eager to hear of her own trials and travels. how was dutch? any nearby packs that require immediate visitation?