Whitebark Stream slowing down

If any FFR wolves would like to join feel free to fast-forward time a few hours if that would make more sense for you :)

He heard the voices as they carried down from the ridge, and he looked up with water running out of the corners of his mouth and down his frosted jaw. He could be wrong, but believed he had heard the deep call of a male followed by a handful of females. He snorted with amusement. That fellow had himself a harem, it seemed. There was no mistaking the nature of the howl. It invited his women to sing with him, and warned others that a new pack had been formed. Atta boy.

He swiped his tongue across his mouth, and leaned a strong shoulder against the pale bark of birch tree, his chartreuse eyes cast across the stream. He had lived on moving paws for a significant portion of his life, trading work for refuge during the winters. He was reluctant to listen to his age, hesitant to consider settling down, but listening to the birth of a pack compelled him to reflect, and he did so at length.