Phoenix Maplewood i will take you as food and leave you as famine

*more ignoring of own timelines*

Warbone often reverted to his self-reliant mechanisms, alpha or not, so instead of sending his wolves out on individual scouting expeditions, he went himself. The members of the Keep did their fair share of work, and the wolf wanted to be a leader not a boss. He would share in the burden, not delegate around it. Years alone had given him the ability to move far and move fast, as quiet as the passing breeze. He searched for green and subsequently for roaming herds, but he was finding himself more and more disparaged each time he made such trips. The copper male shook himself, turning his thoughts from his failures to the present, and he realized that he was near the Maplewood.

Except it was not the Maplewood anymore, and it was just a wood— more devoid of life than he expected. The borders were stale and blanketed by dead locusts. No wolf had patrolled these lines in quite some time, and with his interest piqued, Warbone ventured in further.

It was not long before his exploration turned into a hunt, not for prey. A web of familiarity played on the winds. He knew at first that it was Thuringwethil. He hesitated at first to seek the inkwell queen, not particularly in the mood or in a great enough shape for needless confrontation, but the perfume dancing through her scent like a shy nymph pulled him forward despite his intention to turn around. Her heat beckoned him, as surely as it did any virile brute of their species. But it was so soft yet, he thought maybe she wasn't yet receptive.

And judging by her icy expression when he at last found her and they made distant eye contact, he felt right.