Moonspear snap crackle pop

Kapvik took in the Wilds as they were: rampant with creatures both large and small and bounteous with vegetation. Vegetation that he could make use of at a later date. Traipsing from one territory to the next, Kapvik hoarded anything that may be of value to him or the Spine. A herbivore's favorite lichen, medicinal plants, a perfectly intact crow's skull...Just menial and meaningful objects that had no purpose or several. Even Kapvik could fall prey to fancy every now and then.
INDENTThis excursion was not planned beforehand but his superiors let him have at it anyway. Comforting to know he could discover more while still living under the Spine's rule, able to return once he has gathered enough of a little bit of everything he could pluck, relocate, and store. He worried for his position in the pack, leery of the consequences of his momentary venture but just as quickly dismissed it. If one of the newer joiners surpassed him in rank, Kapvik would go about his way here only to return with unbridled fury. Although his position was hardly anything to write home about.
INDENTKapvik's haunt was in or around Neverwinter Forest. Mainly because his cache was there, mainly because it felt like a second residence. Ironically the swarthiness of the woodland was the main reason he even considered setting up there in the first place. Better yet, it was close to home. So if something came up in the Spine, Kapvik would be there be there with a quickness. Despite his helter-skelter passage into their ranks, Tartok was still very much his home and he would defend those who dwell within every bit as fiercely at hunger gnaws at the unsettled.
INDENTExcept for this guy. Whoever he is, Kapvik spied on him from a more surreptitious area. Not that there were a lot of places to hide, mind you. Maybe Moonspear offered plenty of places to hide, but here, Kapvik was almost as exposed as this slaphappy wolf was. Growing irate at the loner's delectation, Kapvik swiftly rose to stand, brush and bramble clinging to his tousled pelt. Kicking off his hind legs, he charged in Luke's direction with a roaring snarl, eyes fixed on the bone clasped within his paws. He had no intention of harming the lad, but he would use force if he did not extract himself from the bone. Approaching the stony platform upon which Luke laid, Kapvik would go at him with a renewed charge if he has not yet moved.
INDENTThe pale male would see him as nothing more than a brutish hoodlum, little more than a famished, bellicose rogue. Good. Let him think that.