Since the altercation with Eljay and his father, Nightjar had tirelessly patrolled the area near the den site. The beta's son was doing the same, he knew by scent, but somehow the two never crossed paths, which was probably good for the both of them.
He had worn furrows into the ground directly south of the whelping den, out of sight of it but near enough that he could still smell his parents on the air. His heavy paws plodded the same plot of earth day in and day out as he paced, usually even-tempered but sometimes troubled, in an effort to keep everyone away from Fox and her newest cubs. The only two wolves he would permit to pass had not come by yet, but still he patrolled, stopping only occasionally—like right now—to sit down and permit his legs a brief rest.
He had worn furrows into the ground directly south of the whelping den, out of sight of it but near enough that he could still smell his parents on the air. His heavy paws plodded the same plot of earth day in and day out as he paced, usually even-tempered but sometimes troubled, in an effort to keep everyone away from Fox and her newest cubs. The only two wolves he would permit to pass had not come by yet, but still he patrolled, stopping only occasionally—like right now—to sit down and permit his legs a brief rest.
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Once I was 7 years old - by Nightjar - March 10, 2016, 08:19 PM