Lost Creek Hollow fishay fishay

The blue-nosed wolf had tucked himself beneath a low-hanging bough of a spruce tree, absently gnawing at a maple branch. He peeled the bark and heartwood in strips, trying for longer and longer strips each time and building a discard pile beside him. He, too, was an early bird. Or, perhaps just restless. The pack had been successful on most of their hunts, and the caches were full from their collected and individual efforts. Their borders were freshened daily, and there had been no callers recently.

Life in the hollow was peaceful. Their pack faced none of the recent troubles that both of their neighbors north of them had been challenged with. But life in the hollow was also... boring. The realization struck him like a lance. After living the travelling lone wolf life, never knowing what was around the next corner and never being sure of a full belly or a safe night's sleep, he had initially taken comfort in routine. Now, the mundanity seemed to be bothering him a bit.

He shook his head, certain that he was still acclimatizing to his new life. After all, he was still excited to be a part of this new pack, to see it grow, and to be part of a family. He still felt a great deal of contentment. He just needed to entertain himself more. Fortunately, the scent of one of his packmates was just the distraction he needed. Abandoning his stick, he chased down Ilya's scent, finding her resting in the clearing. He woofed to get her attention as he stood with tail wagging and ears perked forward.