Swiftcurrent Creek you call out

The call for him was not urgent, so Haunter did not exactly hurry to meet his Alpha—and this was only because he had returned from the coast just last night and was decidedly very tired, having been asleep at the time the call rang out. Long legs slowly drew him from within his den and into the direction of the call's origin. As he walked, he remembered the last time he had seen Fox. It was not the cougar attack, but rather the night after when he had went to check on her.

Granted she had been in a deep, well-needed sleep and he had left without disturbing her, but he had checked in on her nonetheless. Haunter was neither skilled nor well-versed in social mannerisms, so a more apt wolf might've taken to Fox's side, cleaned a few of her wounds and may have otherwise provided her some company. But of course, the one-earred Rorschach inkblot was not such a wolf and had unconsciously been a little wary of disturbing the injured Fox, so he had kept his distance so to speak.

The fact that the red-furred yearling had called to him now was a surprise, but it was a surprise that he found he actually appreciated in some way. So the real reason Haunter took his time in arriving, was because he didn't want to seem too eager to see her. His pace only picked up when the scent of an unfamiliar wolf reached his nostrils, as well as the scent of prey.

He materialized somewhere to the left of the pair, yellow eyes glancing first towards the new subordinate—quietly assessing that there was no threat here—before swiveling unto Fox. He pulled his ear back and ducked his large head respectfully as he padded to his marred Alpha's side. He brought his long muzzle beneath hers briefly, and then repositioned himself so that he loomed like a dark tower at her side, facing the large, coffee-brown male. As usual, he was silent.