Ravensblood Forest so the past is not the past

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It had not occurred to Arturo to use discretion as he marked the border, but then again it wasn't something he ever truly thought of. He was far too old to be bashful about anything anymore. He would be four in the coming spring, after all. He didn't stop to consider that it might make his young ward uncomfortable if only because it was natural and a necessary evil of border marking. “Yes,” The gangster murmured in response to Chusi's question, giving a rough sigh of approval as he heard her mark the border. He kept moving as she added her urine scent to the ones that already made it up, slinking his svelte, leonine body against a trunk of a smaller sequoia, feeling a small tuft of fur pull from him as it tangled in the rough bark and sticky sap. Not all of the trees bled sap — which was a good thing, admittedly — and for a second Arturo fussed over the sticky spot left on his fur, drawing his tongue over it with a swell of vanity.

“Watch for sap if you rub your scent on a tree,” He warned, though it clearly should have been obvious. Especially to him. “but alternative to urinating you can rub your scent on trees, rocks, or kick up dirt and grass. Your paw pads have scent glands in them that are just as effective.” He informed her after he'd cleaned himself up. “Now,” He drew, glimpsing over a broad shoulder at her. “Say a stranger was to approach us. What do we do?” He wanted to hear what her ideas of being a guardian was; how she would go about greeting this hypothetical stranger. Perhaps, he considered, when she got some more experience under her belt he'd have one of Teaghlaigh's wolves or perhaps he could cajole one of the Depth wolves to play the role in a real life simulation of this scenario. Someone that she would take seriously but that he would trust not to harm her or put her in any sort of true danger.

That, however, was a plan for another day.

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