Patrolling—

A task he should have given up long ago, body weary and aged. But there was something about it that kept him coming back, kept him putting his body through the wringer. Some sense of duty, perhaps—a way to stay connected to his past and to the land underfoot.

No matter the reasoning, he was there all the same; stretching out now to urinate, joints aching far too much to hike his leg. Occasionally he’d rub his body against a tree, too, scratching spots he could not twist to reach in the process. Mid-way through the latter, he paused and listened, hearing still surprisingly precise. A howl was heard, someone not of their own reaching out to those within. Pushing off the base of a tree with a grunt, he steadied himself and sought to answer her call.

When Kove arrived, his age would be apparent—steps slowed and stiff, eyes sunken in but, from wisdom or age alone, one could never be too sure. To the stranger he dipped his head, a welcoming greeting, followed by a gruff, “Salutitsinik—”

Silence, ever so brief.

“—I suppose hello would be more familiar to you,” he noted. “What has brought you here, nukadlik?”

She spoke of being directed there by another wolf, someone whose name he could not say with certainty that he knew. But the man nodded along anyways, accepting her words and assuming this other was related to Easthollow somehow; he wondered if the other existed before him or if his memory was beginning to fade at last. Would one be better than the other?

“I am not someone that gets to decide whether or not you’ll be allowed here,” he answered. Kove was but an elderly man now, a leader of none and hardly even able to continue as a guardian. “I will call for someone that can be of more use.” Seconds after and out came a short call to @Valette. After which he looked to the stranger again and asked, “What is your name?”