the wraith mostly lingers toward the outskirts of the territory, unwilling to directly interact with any of the expecting mothers just yet. it only seems right that he should establish trust first, a reputation as a protector rather than an intruder. so he makes himself a watchful eye over the borders, day and night, occasionally venturing further to be certain no danger lurks just beyond. but the taiga is peaceful, and his patrols are uneventful; boring work, even, but it keeps him busy. he tries not to give himself too much time to think. today his thoughts are particularly intrusive, however, and he finds himself completing his daily tasks with more aggression than is typical of him. even the slightly stale fox-scent he finds not far from the borders sends his hackles rippling, and he fights the urge to pursue — to kill. he doesn't really care about the fox, though; they aren't truly a threat, at least not to zephyr. he's fought far worse than scraggly little thieves.