Porcupine Ridge iphone screen full of smudges

Farstep had not eaten squirrel. They were a bugger to catch, and he was too excited by them to ever sneak up on them. As soon as the dusting of snow fell over Taggarik, his subordinate flicked his gaze up and caught sight of the bushy squirrel tail, and his lips pulled back into a goofy half-pant, half-grin. His tail swung jovially as he craned his neck to get a peek of the rodent, and when the squirrel moved, so did he with jerky and playful steps. He was hopeful that it would fall, and continued to trace it in this manner until it disappeared into a hollow in the tree.

Disappointed, the wolf snorted and shook his neck out and dropped his nose to the ground once more. The scents were more interesting here along the side of the stream, and soon enough he was following the crackle of ice down the slope toward a small lake in the distance. Taggarik was free to continue along his borders if he wished, or he could continue surveying his newest subordinate; the drifter's stance as he tracked was light and easy, with a still-wagging tail inviting Tagg if he had nothing better to do.