Swiftcurrent Creek Who do I smell?

Thyme was glad when he got out of the wetlands. It had taken him longer than expected but the terrain hadn't been very accommodating. The young male had been tired and hungry when the land finally started to appear less soggy. He followed the river as he came from the wetlands, having a quick drink to quench his thirst but also to still his hunger. The male wanted to continue the river down, perhaps finding a place to rest when he stumbled upon a pack's border. The border was very pungent and a clear warning to back off, at least in Thyme's eyes.

Though as he continued on the border, there were sometimes a hint of familiarity in it. The pale young man frowned a little and dared to come closer to the border. Not actually trespassing but sniffing one of the marks. The lanky young male probably looked in quite a state, with mud caked into his fur up to his belly. He couldn't place it yet. He decided to follow the border to the next scent mark.

Something about spring seemed to revive activity in the world around them. It surpassed the simplicity of the birds flocking back home—the animals from hibernation awakening. No, their borders were busier than usual, and today was no different—Akavir trailed after a dusty looking fellow, eyes fast upon him, features unreadable.

The wolf’s nose was to the ground—intent on something? Male, it seemed—and as Akavir gained ground, the scent of the other would confirm this suspicion—though he was lean. Life as a rogue, perhaps?

He made no effort to gather the stranger’s attention. Instead, from a distance, he followed—like an animal stalking its prey. Mostly, though, he was interested to see what the lone wolf was so intent on seeking out at their borders.

Thyme was blissfully unaware of the shadow that followed him. He went to a mark and sniffed it. He frowned. It wasn't the scent itself but ... Frustrating! He continued further to the next mark. One where someone had rubbed against a tree. He pressed his nose to it and inhaled. He closed his eyes. Faint... Familiar. He moved his nose to the ground but it didn't tell him anything. He lowered himself, daring a step closer but then pulled himself back. He wasn't that foolish to tress pass.

Thyme trotted away from the border, but after a few paces he stopped. A nagging feeling. He turned back to the tree and sniffed it again. He tried to sniff the air but came up empty. The scent was faint, but then again, if he thought who it was... she might not be really at the borders. But it might not be her, maybe family? It smelled like... when he was a child but so faint. Thyme moved back to where he came from, tracing back the marks on the border, sniffing the air. Perhaps he should just howl and see who came to see him? But he was in such a foul state. Hesitantly he looked into the territory, like that would make him any wiser, debating his approach. Perhaps he should return another day.

Languid-paced, Akavir studied from afar. His presence went unnoticed for now—and he intended to keep it that way until it was required. The dust-cloaked wolf investigated, and at times, backtracked to investigate more—drawing a curiosity from the shadow runner that remained masked by outward indifference.

Indecision seemed to rule the stranger—but as the other man paused, so did Akavir, his tail lashing through the air—eyes remaining pointedly upon the lone wolf that seemed so fascinated with his home.

Thyme had backtracked and tried to zone into one of the scents. It was just frustrating that he didn't know, that he couldn't gasp... Thyme sighed. The young male peered into the territory but that didn't seem to give him any clue. His eyes scanned on the landscape until he made eye contact with a large shadow. Or well, at least it was clear the shadow was watching him.

Thyme instantly scrambled back away from the border. He was never one to fight. He was just showing interest. If the male would charge at him he would instantly sprint for his life. However... Maybe the man wouldn't instantly attack. Uh.. Apologies for snooping, he commented, speaking it a little louder before gathering himself. It was clear he was a little wary of him. I think I might know someone of your pack.