Silvertip Mountain Read about you in a museum

Ezekiel padded along, checking and marking the borders. His favorite pass time, other than his new found hobby and talent he'd found at counseling. It wasn't something you'd expect from the brutish male, but he liked the feeling of helping. It made him feel like he wasn't just a soldier anymore. He was a contributing member of an amazing pack, and I liked that. The Manchester lifted his leg to spray a tree, not leaving any spots unchecked. He couldn't risk any intruders 'unknowingly' sneaking past borders. They couldn't possibly miss after all the careful marking he'd done.

He stopped for a rest under a tree, not one he'd peed on, and sighed. It was a beautiful day. He'd never thought he'd see another one of these beautiful days. The famine seemed to have lasted forever. But now it was over, and everything was good. A breeze ruffled his shale grey fur, and he shook his pelt to slick it back down.