Porcupine Ridge Just a ghost running scared

There was a vole under the snow. Farstep could hear it, its little feet scratching against the harder ground below as it tunneled through the thicker banks near the base of the ridge. He followed it doggedly as it worked its way downhill, with his tail flagging every time he caught the sound again after losing it. His head whipped to and fro as the vole scurried in zigzags, but no matter how keenly he was able to hear it and follow it, every time he brought his paws down in a slam, he missed it.

Damn vole. It was too clever for him.

Still, it preoccupied him enough to carry him to Taggarik's borders, where the growing scent of the alpha male triggered a new instinct in Farstep. He stopped right where he was, hiked a leg carefully, and urinated over the alpha's paw prints to refresh the scent. With that finished, the wolf gave his shoulders a quick shake, scratched his hind feet against the ground as if a tiny dusting of snow could cover the yellow patch he'd left, and loped after his quarry once more, this time following the vole parallel to the newly laid border line.