Wapun Meadow Enter lightning

Was interested in having Kove here interact with one of the Dotharan wolves, so hope you don't mind me snagging this. c:

Too often did he spend his days within the confines of the valley, lounging about and doing nothing particularly exciting. He was born an adventurer, and though he possessed a home that was dear to him, he would forever be an adventurer. Such a life was not something so easily ended, and he had no desire to do that, anyways. The man actually liked being curious and finding his way around things, even if there had been occasions in the past where he'd gotten into trouble doing just that. Curiosity killed the cat, though, not the wolf, so he'd never truly give up on his past lifestyle. It was much easier to live the life of a traveler when a lone wolf, but he found he hadn't been one in quite some time now. Not truly, anyways. The had been a brief moment between when he was apart of Blackfeather and when Bearclaw was founded, but the time had not been long enough to be worth anything. Plus, he had been busy during that time, scouting out the valley and meeting with wolves who had been willing to go with him and his lover to create the pack. Even after that, becoming an alpha had prevented him, once again, from actually exploring.

Even so, Kove had been given some time to look around, and actually knew of the meadow he'd started towards. He'd been there several times already, but one more couldn't hurt, could it? It could have changed significantly with the turn of the weather, and he was interested to see what it might currently hold. His legs carried him over a familiar path, and though visiting a place you'd been before could not really count as exploring, he believed the two things to be similar, as he expected the appearance of the meadow to differ from when he'd last laid eyes on it. The journey was a quick one, what with it being so close to his home and all. The Inuit man made his way through it, passing over the small creek after awhile of moving along. Just when he was about to wrap up his little trip and head back home to his lover and pack, a foreign scent invaded the air. Curious, he followed it, only to be met with the sight of a rather old looking wolf—not that he would say that aloud, though. He'd learned the hard way when he was younger and had made the mistake of calling his mother old, that most females did not appreciate comments on their age. Her age did not cease his curiosity, however, and he pressed forward until he was within speaking distance, not bothering to move in a silent manner. The last thing he needed was to accidentally give someone a heart attack—literally.

“You are not from around here, are you?” the ghost inquired, having caught the tail-end of her words. The language was foreign, one he did not understand, nor could he place. It sounded strange to his ears, but then again, what languages didn't when they were unknown? He was sure the language his family, and many other Inuits, used did not have the most familiar sound to those who'd never heard it before.