Ouroboros Spine oh no, she's at the bottom of that bottle

His paws thrummed gently against the ground – summer had brought with it a flourish to the lands Tonravik now laid claim to, and had he a better appreciation for the beauty of nature, he might have idly sat down to glance upon their kingdom. Instead, the fiery wolf made to keep himself busy.

For today, that included scouring the packs borders.. leaving his mark every so often as a reminder to any that might come upon them that a pack did indeed have these lands as theirs. His large form would push upward on hind limbs every so often, his claws raking down the bark of a misplaced tree before he would then move on, his brown eyes scanning the lands before him.

Something had shifted in the Spine. The pack had appeared to be settling – but now, a new scent traced the air, and it lingered upon his nostrils with a dangerous allure. Tonravik was in heat, and now the Tartok wolf made to avoid her. It would seem this proved to be simple – as such, he had not yet come upon many faces of those within his pack, and he knew he would need to remedy this soon. Pack was family.. and it would do the male no good to remain as an outsider to his comrades.. nor would it inspire Tonravik or her mother to bless him with a branch of his own stemmed from the name of Tartok.