Sleepy Fox Hollow las olas de mi mar

He could not help but think his response had not fallen well upon the ears of their newest wolf. No matter. The wolf was new. He was learning and adjusting to their ways. It would take time in order to garner some form of understanding. He'd been equally as rebellious as first. As questioning. As unwilling to accept the way of things. Time had tempered him. Time had taught them Tartok did not invite war unless provoked. Perhaps in the future there would be reason for that to change. But for now and with the location of their home so new? It was far better to remain unknown and unseen. Their marks were better suited for their infant borders than the rest of this land.

Iqniq paused, lowering his nose to scent the hollowed base of a tree. The scent there was fading. Not of wolf, but of fox. A creature the Spire took great care to exterminate. Aasivak marked. Here too, Iqniq pissed upon the place a lesser canine had lain and frequently. It'd best not return. He'd warned it off for now, but foxes, he was learning, were a particularly stubborn bunch who picked up the pieces where coyotes did not. They were equally as annoying.

Unrelenting in this particular discovery, the russet wolf turned, shifting find and flush out those foxes with a fire of his own.