Sawtooth Spire White Noise

Having spent days compassing the wilds – meeting their to-be neighbors, canvassing prey movements, exterminating vermin – Tatsuya has had no time to spare. Nanuk, Iqniq and Weirdie had the Spire covered as far as he was concerned. Were they in need of assistance, they made no show of it, working industriously among themselves. The Epsilon busied himself with other matters; matters he (personally) thought of import. In time, he would see if all this running around would bare fruit. As for now though, he was satisfied joining in on the assertion. It involved less running and more leisurely bouts. Oh! And excrement. Can't forget that.
INDENTNanuk's reply did nothing to alleviate his headache. Of course, Brutus. We must adhere to the laws of the wild. Always. Every hour of every day. For better or for worse. Worse for the Epsilon, unmistakably. It's fine! Everything's fine! No, it's not. Would the mother and her brood hold out? Were their caches adequate? The wolverine's herbs were squirreled away, safe from the elements and ne'er-do-wells stupid enough to come blundering into Sawtooth Spire. Tatsuya awaited the foolish with maddened, slabbing jowls. Nomercynomercynomercynome–Mercy was for the weak. The Epsilon desires those ready for slaughter. The weak must be purged, Brutus!
INDENTTatsuya shadowed his Beta intimately, cognition elsewhere. What were they doing again...? Nanuk reminded him in her own communicative way, moving and stopping with purpose. Oh yes. Marking. Hm. He was fresh out of waste, so he would have to use other means in marking their territory. His avowal might not be as strong, but the message is no less clear: do not pass. To pass is to die. A virile, universal symbol from the derelict Epsilon. Tatsuya caressed the more pronounced areas of their home, leaving behind lilliputian tussocks of fur and scent. He would rejoin Nanuk, strutting alongside her in mimicked lopes.