Porcupine Ridge moose notepad and jeep pen

He was content to preen debris from the soft strands of her fur, but her question caused him pause, and he drew back to hold her periwinkle eyes. Irritated though he was by their decision to settle in their buffer, those areas immediately surrounding their claim, his mind was rooted by logic, and his heart by his concern for his wolves. It shaped his decisions into what they were, and his confidence held him fast to them.

"I work with what I have, with what is now," he explained softly. "I cannot make decisions based on what could be, what may never be. What I know is that my wolves do not not hunger and do not thirst. They are safe and well. I cannot risk their health or their lives on something that may never happen; on hypothetical problems."

His expression darkened, his brow knitting over his brows and his mouth turning downward as his voice became somber and firm. "I will be first to set teeth to their hides if that changes." He would fight for his pack.

But only when it was needed.