The greyscale male had been busy, winter was coming after all and Swiftcurrent Creek had no use for slackers. If he himself ran a pack, no one would slack off and if they did, they would be chased away. It was hard, but it was reality. Nobody would be able to survive and he didn't plan on dying at such a young age. He was still single for god's sake and he did not plan to die single. Estoc had not seen his packmates other than Scimitar and Kaskara but he knew Saber was here too and today's plan consisted of finding him.
So the Gladius wolf began moving along the Creek's waters for usually the wolves of Swiftcurrent were by its shores, why wouldn't they be? Constant food, fresh water to drink and water to bathe in. It was cold but it was still fun to leap in and splash around, just because he was an adult didn't mean he didn't like to play childish games.
Saber had filled 3 caches that morning, the holes now consisting of fat squirrels who were too slow to get away from the dagger lined jaws of his. Foolishly, the had decided to venture too far from the safety of their trees, to search for the abundance of nuts and other delicacies that promised them survival during the winter.
Foolish squirrels.
He placed another furry carcass in a newly made cache besides an old willow that decided its resting place would be next to the swift creek of a river, the river that Saber had no knowledge of pertaining to the packs history.
The Frostfur desperately wanted to know the pack history, so he could have some knowledge to share with the remarkably beautiful hellion who he had met not too long ago. Not only that, he too, desired to know others that resided in Swiftcurrent Creek.
The handsome sand and warm tawny pelted man licked his chops, removing the crimson droplets of the little rodents life essence from view, and decided fishing would be acceptable at a moment like this. So padding gracefully, he poised himself in the fashion of a waiting viper, patient to get a meal, lips parted, just above the water's crystalline surface.
The greyscale male trotted steadily beside the Creek's rushing waters, he knew that it was dangerous despite its beauteous exterior. The swift rapids could easily wash a full grown wolf down the river and to their deaths if it was fast and strong enough, he doubted even Scimitar would be able to resist it. Lost in his own thoughts, Estoc nearly slipped and fell but caught himself just in time, he swore heavily, curse words slipping out of his tongue casually.
Blame his adventures. The Frostfur had met many different wolves on his travels and some were not so......nice.
Piercing golden eyes narrowed at the figure in front of him, realizing a moment later that it was exactly the wolf he was looking for. Saber. Holy Jupiter. "Oh my fucking god, pretend none of that ever happened," he blurted out but a moment later his eyes that resembled the sun glowed with laughter.
Without looking up from his position, the FrostFur attempted to figure out the voice of this new company he had somehow managed to draw to himself. The slightest movement, the vibration of the words he could have spoken, could have scared away the trout that swam its course up the very spot he aimed. Fishing took patience and trial and error. Saber knew his luck with fishing, and was determined to not fail because a fellow packwolf desired conversation.
And then it was done. As soon as the midsection of the fat piscina was angled beneath his slim and serrated jaws, he gripped the thick and hard soil that held him to the earth, crouched, and hadthe trout lodged within his maw. He released his prize from the frigid waters, and turned a cool gaze to whoever it was who attempted to disturb his hunt.
And nearly dropped the fish.
"Estoc? Assure me this is you?"