Lost Creek Hollow Tired and forgotten.

The howl drew him out as well, propelling him towards the outer limits of the territory to suss out the source. At that point, with tensions as high as they were following the return of Ayishik to their fold, he dreaded the call at their doorstep. But it was also just as impossible to assume that they could somehow fade into obscurity with partial neglect of the furthest reaches of their claim; wolves would always come to the borders of a pack, especially when they wanted something.

And what Mordecai wanted most of all then and there, was for his home to be left alone. He moved swiftly through the growing grasses and plants, trying to hone in on where it was he needed to be as quickly as he could. For all he knew, Shardul could have easily been just a few paces off from their wood, and that was a thought that had stayed with him for a longer length than the winter had lasted.

It was Shikoba he caught sight of first, bobbing through the terrain towards the uneven fringes; her bark in the scant minutes to follow brought him in closer, and ultimately to the wayfarer at their doorstep. He passed by the native she-wolf to close in that distance to the unfamiliar wolf, his own body language beyond pride and leaning towards aggression. This was a no man's land for all of them; his solitary gaze swept through the brush for sign of the feline before settling on the ashen she-wolf.

"You picked one hell of a time to be calling along these borders."