Silver Creek Fire starts with matches

Rexxar stood back from the timberline, behind which wound the creek that had been his haunt the past few moons. His ears were splayed and his lips were pinched and pulled sideways as his blue eyes roamed the bare limbs of the trees. The locusts had come this far, too. His stomach rumbled in protest; the last meal he had eaten had run its course, and it appeared that he would have to rub his pads raw travelling far enough to find untouched wilds teeming with prey.

Perhaps the fish were still gathered in the pools. Rexxar strode forward, only to find to pause again as his nose picked up the scent of wolves. With the wind at his back, he had not noticed until he had drawn near. It seemed the creek was becoming home to others. His stomach rumbled again, and he considered turning back and seeking the pools downstream... but then he heard it. The most beautiful howl... the dinner bell howl. Nothing sounded sweeter to a complaining stomach than somewolf calling out they had food.

That settled it. Curious and hungry, the smokey wolf loped toward the caller, surprised to find that he recognized her. The white and copper female from the coast. His mouth curled in an amused smile. "Well hello," he greeted from a distance of about three lengths of himself.