Heron Lake Plateau and rut them 'gainst the forest floor

Svalinn was beginning to feel confined in the Eyjolfur den, even despite his almost histrionic attachments to @Caiaphas and @Raleska. More than just his eyes had begun to transition, and the growing boy was becoming less interested in naptimes and more interested in farther treks. To him the world was limitless, and he had boundless energy to take it on -- if only his mother would stop leading him back to the densite!

She gave him a longer leash this time. He'd already run into trouble before in this manner of being alone, but it had been proven to all parties involved that here on the Plateau he was never really alone. Still, he was more hesitant in his goings -- pausing to sniff longer at unfamiliar scents, and tensing at every sound outside the native birdsong and breeze-whispering. It was a warm day, perhaps too warm for any predator to be running any grand chases, but Svalinn spent his daylight hunting for someone or something to disturb...

And with great luck, he managed to come across an injured bird before anything else. It struggled and flapped about with a badly twisted wing, and now it was being harried on the ground by a butterball with sharp teeth: snapping and trying to silence its terrified screeches for good.

Tags for reference -- anyone, please!

The bird's cries drew Elwood from his reflection. He was somewhere near the lake, thinking about the fact that he was a grandfather. When he first arrived in the Teekon Wilds nearly four years ago, he had never thought that he would put down such deep roots with the Redhawks and the Blackthorns. His thoughts dissipated as his ears pricked and his head tilted to one side, and then he stood and began to trot towards the source of the sound.

He found a bird and a puppy. It took him a moment to identify the child; he knew about the newcomers, Caiaphas and her companions, but hadn't acquainted himself personally with any of them. He approached and then paused, watching as the boy nipped at the bird, whose wing appeared to be injured and was preventing it from escaping its tormentor. The experienced hunter could never turn town an opportunity to teach the younger generation, so with his tail waving, Elwood crouched and gave a chuff of encouragement to urge the pup to keep doing what he was doing.

So far Svalinn was being outwitted by the desperate songbird. It wedged itself among the thorns of some bushes, and before he could puzzle around the ouchy bits, he was distracted by the arrival of Elwood. His eyes bulged at the older wolf, and he physically receded from his unfamiliarity. But the switch to flee was only half flipped, and he edged forward again with encouragement. It was at this point that the cub realized this wolf smelled strangely familiar, causing him to flex his nostrils repeatedly in an effort to identify this male.

It was hard for him to reconcile the act of putting a face to a scent, rather than the other way around as he was use to,  but eventually Svalinn came to the conclusion that this was his packmate -- one of the ingrained pack-scents Mama had directed him to memorize. Oh good -- a servant's come! the entitled brute thought. In his cutest, most "help me I'm just a baby" voice, he asked: "you get burd?" and scooting forward, he wagged his tail hopefully.

As the pup turned briefly to face Elwood, the injured bird took the opportunity to try to get out of reach. Over Svalinn's shoulder, Elwood watched as it moved beneath a bit of shrubbery, using the prickly leaves as a barrier between itself and the two wolves. The boy's initial hesitation about the older male eased and was replaced by an eager hopefulness as he suggested that Elwood "get burd" -- a request that was all too welcome.

He bobbed his head. "I can help," he confirmed, even as he straightened and began to stride towards the bushes. He peered down through the tangle of branches and the songbird hopped in the opposite direction with a series of annoyed sounds. Lowering himself onto his stomach, he reached in with a long foreleg, his paw swiping towards the bird. He ignored the pinches and pokes of thorns, and the bird's protests grew louder, until it finally popped out the other side of the bush.

"Go get it," Elwood instructed to Svalinn as he withdrew, wincing when a particularly sharp edge brushed against the top of his paw. He kept an eye on the pup as he antagonized the bird for a short while longer, until it finally managed to make an escape.