Whitebark Stream lied der nacht

set for the evening of october 12th, 2018. outskirts of phoenix maplewood. esp welcome to morningside wolves for that reason <3

he had made as straight a path for himself toward the bypass from swiftcurrent as was possible, and it was three days hence that he arrived on its unclaimed doorstep.
he had not looked back toward the creek.
unwilling to waste more time, mahler had set about marking the entrance to noctisardor, shredding the bark along the boles of several trees further into the territory as well. if it was to be his, he would take it now, rather than later — it was a prime and rich place that was sure to draw attention, both helpful and unwanted.
he had taken the remainder of the day to travel around the outermost edge of the bypass, gathering the thick scent of a somehow leaderless pack nearby. or it seemed to bear no alpha-scent. this was a curiosity to mahler, and he lurked closer, pausing in the evening to peruse a crystalline stream and rest his weary paws nearby.

Mahler had not been the only wolf to notice the lack of an alpha-scent on the borders of Morningside. There was another opportunist there too; a pale bachelor wolf without a personal tie to speak of— both willing and able to carve a name for himself wherever in these lands he could. Endeavor did not aspire so much to lead, but he was quickly finding out that life without a purpose— wandering for the sake of wandering— wasn't exactly in his wheelhouse.

He trotted along the maplewood's dusk-lit edge, hunting for any excuse to invade, but before any progress could be made, he came across another wolf: a male, with such a faded packscent Endeavor wondered if he was imagining it. He sized up the ash-fiend, knowing right away that he would avoid trouble here if he could help it; for a fight with this wolf meant at minimum a decent injury. He lifted his tail and wagged, starting a steady advance with only minimal pauses to account for a less-than-desirable reception.

the musiker had found some semblance of peace when awareness of another entered his senses; mahler drew himself up to full height but otherwise found no reason to posture or threaten this wolf. a male, blood-hewn gaze knowing, a brutish and titanic beast comprised of frost and silver. a match for mahler himself, and this the gargoyle appreciated. the battleworn finesse of the other man demanded both caution and respect, both given by his own extended muzzle toward the newcomer.
though his posture was still tense with wariness, when no immediate blow came, mahler unwound his tight stance. the hard lavender of his gaze appraised the other; he glanced over one shoulder toward the land of the leaderless pack. and while it seemed a lark to rush in, to demand what would be given, noctisardor beckoned, and the gargoyle decided he would not be turned from it. "i am mahler," he introduced in a mutter.