Lost Creek Hollow Joining

With the cougar's assault on Ilya, Mordecai found himself at a crossroads. The feline may as well have been stalking and picking through their ranks, though he hardly knew to what extent it was truly canvassing the land. There was truthfully a part of him that desired to find it and put it down, but he knew in his own ability it was an improbable sort of tactic. Nor would he put any more of them to its claws and teeth, given that they had their fair share of wounds healing.

And Luke, where was he? It had become more and more obvious to him in the days that the blue-nosed beta was absent from their lands. Whatever search he had made for him within the territory had been in vain — where he lingered before, he did not now, and Mordecai did not dare venture after him. Not with pups, not with their injured, and certain not when he was the only one left in commission to stand as a visible figurehead.

For a change of pace, he was thankful when a howl rose along their borders, though he felt the pierce of anxiety drawing him tense. The last time that had happened, there had been Ilya laying along their borders. This time, he did not know what entirely to expect though he made haste to them all the same. And there he found another unfamiliar face and fortunately, no one from his ranks lying in their own blood.

Drawing himself into a posture befitting his rank, he drew near to the she-wolf and cast his solitary gaze to give her a proper once-over. She was atypical to many who had come along his borders; travel-worn and in the winter, cold. Maybe hungry. Probably hungry, for all he knew and had been through once upon a time. No words slipped from him as he felt them unnecessary; he was confident as to why she was there and only left an expression inquiring into such.