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He would not allow another pack to forbid the passage of himself and his wolves along the rim of the vale. Though he was traditionally territorial within his own boundaries only, this trailway he would also defend. It was necessary, should a need ever arise for himself or his wolves to reach the eastern section of the range, or the sprawling taiga beyond.

Still, even this would not quite satisfy him. Packs too near one another were conflict waiting to happen, especially if one pack found themselves in want of food. He was confident it would not be his wolves; the ridge was bountiful, but that barren rock of thunder was another story. Perhaps it held some resources yet unknown to him. Either way, his unease would persist.

He was distracted from his deliberations; another black figure emerged ahead of him, and his paws came to rest atop a bare expanse of stone where gusting winds had drifted the snow to the side. His ears were pressed forward with marked interest, his tail was a pendulum of fur. Perhaps this was one of the wolves that were living here; he could not catch her scent to know for sure.