Neverwinter Forest At the edge of the woods

Scimitar had remained skeptical upon allowing entry of the grizzled silver wolf, Njal, to the pack, and yet thus far had not been disappointed. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to the cinnamon wolf, and yet the way the Sveijarn and Frostfur had parted in Swiftcurrent Creek, it hadn’t been overly amicable.
 
But bygones were bygones, and with a famine upon them, a sister with new pups, and a pregnant mate, Scimitar was not keen to linger upon past frustrations when their future remained so threatened.
 
Njal called to him, and the large wolf was quick to respond. His own muzzle tipped back, echoing his position and notifying the ward he would come. His paws were not swift – fatigue fell heavily upon him, for he went with very little food now. His own form was thinning, and his eyes becoming more lifeless. It would seem Teekon Wilds was not done pressing challenges upon them yet.
 
When he came to the scene, the older wolf was there, having intercepted a dark stranger. Scimitar’s muzzle tipped downward in light greeting, though his form held the edge of pride still, despite his hunger. His eyes were swift to study the wolf, his features impassive. “State your name and business,” he requested, quick to get this underway.