Porcupine Ridge the devil and his sons

He'd mentally mapped about one fifteenth of the ridge and added ground squirrel to his mental catalogue of animals that could be found upon it. Excellent. The loner was well on his way to becoming a functional member of Taggarik's pack, even if the wolves who were flocking to it were the sort that vocalized more than was necessary for basic communication. Farstep was already learning to ignore the gruff noises that his companions made unless he could guess at a specific purpose for making them, which often went hand-in-hand with their body language. His fluency in that, at least, made up for his inability to speak or understand words.

The snowy ridge, once pristine, was now littered with the prints of himself, Taggarik, Capriccio and whoever else had come to call the place home. Their scents intermingled on the wind into a conglomerate message—here there be wolves—that was surely what attracted Romulus to their borders.

But Farstep was higher up and had the advantage of sight. As he was inspecting a set of tracks he was unfamiliar with, slight motion in his periphery made the silent wolf turn his head slowly. There! Nearing the ridge's base, a creature cut a shade apart from the snow. For a moment Farstep wasn't sure what sort of creature it was, but as he turned and began a graceful descent toward Romulus, the figure took shape. Too large for a coyote, so he must be a wolf. For once, the lone male approached with some level of confidence, a vast improvement over his usual nervousness. He pressed forward his ears as he made his final approach of Romulus, squared his shoulders, and lifted his head high (but not too high; he wasn't the leader here) to expectantly await an appropriate response.

Can skip Farstep as needed, mostly keen on exploring how he handles border duty.