Sleepy Fox Hollow las olas de mi mar

The close proximity of the forest wolves bothered the spider. The Eta had not witnessed any within, nor what they had titled themselves. The only information gleaned was that Tonravik did not mention them as enemies yet their borders were obnoxiously close. Having no prior knowledge of any territory in this particular section, the soot-colored spider could only stew on how everything happened about.

Their name caused a tilt of jawline, neither caring for it or allowing the sound of it to be displeasing. It simply was. A nod ascertained that, yes, this had been the proper location in query. While the Sawtooth were perfectly content on their spires of cold rock, the woods below the spire peaks were a constant reminder. Perhaps the recent interaction with an aspiring new pack was to blame for the sudden interest. 

Another pause allowed urine to spritz onto a small shrub, paws kicking a bit of soil across from in in an effort to imprint toe pad scent within the earth. Gaze crept upward to scout the ragged ridge of the mountains that cupped this location, wary and cognizant of potential spies.