Silvertip Mountain My Wounds Run Deeper Than My Veins

The guardian paused his rounds when he caught onto an unfamiliar scent. It smelled faintly of Silvertip Mountain, but was definitely not a scent he recognized. Ezekiel snorted, deciding it would be best to make sure this was just a newbie and not some intruder. The large grey male was ever the protector, it was his duty to ensure these borders stayed safe. He wouldn't want anyone getting in and harming the pups or any of his pack mates for that matter. If that happened, he would feel the brunt of the guilt, always believing it was his fault. And so his snow tipped paws led him after the unknown scent, curiosity burning in his mind.

Soon he came to find an older white and grey wolf lazing about in what looked like a den. So he was probably new to the pack, but Zeke had to make sure. He stood a bit away so as not to intimidate the male, but held himself high to show dominance. He chuffed to get the other's attention and waited for Chaska to notice him.