Porcupine Ridge Just a ghost running scared

Anwyl permitted him to sniff his crown. The yearling smelled of Taggarik and also of the female of the pack, Capriccio, whom Farstep had enjoyed an afternoon of play with not long ago. A definite pack member, then, and one of the two unfamiliar scents about the lands. He'd known from the smells that there were two other males on the ridge, but one of them was only prevalent in the lower reaches of the ridge and faintly at that, and the other belonged to this wolf. Pleased to make his acquaintance, Farstep gave Anwyl all the time he needed to scent him out, then withdrew a half-pace.

With a cheeky twinkle in his eye, the Gamma opened his jaws and gnashed them harmlessly, playfully, at the air in front of Anwyl's nose. He enjoyed a good jaw spar with any wolf and hoped to entice his newest acquaintance into one. His front half dipped slightly toward the ground and his tail flagged high, curled and waving jovially, as he wriggled in place.