Duskfire Glacier one minute of everything at once

for @Garland! tag for reference! <3

though duskfire glacier has many secrets and internal territories he has yet to discover and explore in full, he's got a vague idea of the territory mapped during his border marking. he tries to divide his time as best he can: aiding those he has gathered to the fledging pack in border marking and cache making and herd tracking; and recruiting. there is much to be done but wintersbane falls into the routine with fondness; settling it without difficulty. the only bothersome thing is his healing leg but he does as @Iana tells him and lets her tend to it as she sees fit.

the rise of the sun on the chill morning sets the polaris icefield ablaze and he pauses in his routine patrol and marking to admire it; allowing himself the brief moment of peace and tranquility.

this is so late i had too much coffee

The scent of a forming border stop him in his tracks. Garland almost hates the reminder that other wolves exist; it doesn't seem fair that he's so lonely when there are so many others around. They all have each other, and what does he have?
Nothing. As always.
The golden wolfdog lingers near the marked places, a comfortable distance off but unable to tear himself away from the scene. Eventually he notices the wolf in the distance — a big dude, all dark-furred and scarred and probably the type who could kick Garland's ass. He isn't fond of those types, so his first instinct is to avoid. But something keeps him from walking away — so he just stands there awkwardly, staring like a deer in the headlights.

it does not take wintersbane long for the scent of a lone wolf to drift his way and a glimpse is given; fighting off the bristle of his hackles at the proximity to his glacier. though the borders were still a work in progress, wintersbane'd always been horrendously territorial and nothing — not even his injured leg — was going to change it. he strides, limping, towards the pale-furred stranger; glacial gaze studying.

this is duskfire glacier, he breaks his silence, hoping to eke a response from the deer-in-the-headlights stranger. i am wintersbane, the alpha. can i help you?

The bristling of hackles sets his nerves alight — but the stranger is injured, and that offers some small reassurance. Garland is at least certain he could outrun him in this state. He swallows as the dark-furred wolf approaches, silent for a moment while he considers his response to the greeting that follows. It always takes him a second to remember how this particular language works. He wishes his native tongue was more common. I don't smell a pack here, He finally says, tone questioning, feeling strange about his own heavy accent. Is this... Duskfire Glacier — is it hunting grounds for your pack? That would explain the lack of diversity in the scents forming the borders.

having the fact that though he ( and others ) have been hard at work marking the borders it is not enough to establish him is grating enough but having it pointed out to him grates at his nerves further. his smile is a terse thing, pulling tight across scarred lips and mirthless. we are still founding. wintersbane informs, clarifying that founding or established means little to the tundrian. this is his claim and he would defend it with his last and dying breath if that is what it requires from him.

and we intend for this glacier to be our home. though perhaps this internal territory does not look like it would make for a good home the forested area of the glacier is sustaining enough with woodland critters and herds to hunt, and ample shelter split between the forest and the cave network below.

after a few more minutes of conversation the pair eventually head their different ways.