Haunted Wood You think you know somebody

Nightjar's very first step outside the borders of Redhawk Caldera was done solely in the interest of his pack. It was no desire to wander. It was no curiosity. It was the line of duty that brought him to the edge of their claim and finally beyond it, and there was no exhilaration to accompany these steps. The broad-shouldered young warrior wasn't excited about leaving the lands he called home. This was evident in the grim set of his jaw and the fire hidden in his cold silver eyes.

Some wolves had decided to try to stake a claim on the caldera's doorstep and it was partly his job to disrupt that attempt. There were no holds barred here; they had authority to kill and Nightjar, being nothing if not an instinctively territorial beast, would do just that if necessary. But for now, the imposingly large timber wolf padded heavily among the trees, following the scents of wolves to places where they were strongest and replacing the budding pack's scent markers with his own splash of urine. He was ever alert as he did this despite his deaf ear. His eyes were sharp, his good ear was straining, and his sense of smell was keen and ready and he was aware of everything around him. They would be very hard-pressed to sneak up on him.

And if they did somehow manage it, they would find a fighter waiting for them.