Northstar Vale Wuthering

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In the heart of the Vale, Warbone's presence had become steadily more prevalent as the days turned to weeks. He seemed to be working his way outward, establishing a concentration of his masculine scent everywhere he could in the woodlands before extending his claim outwards. Even if it were never more than just Saena and himself, he would still do this. It kept him from harassing the Marauders, or from otherwise committing reckless acts that would serve only to deal him an ill-conceived death. But he wasn't interested in the end of his life; at least, not anymore.

The titan prowled slowly— hunting, but perhaps not for prey he wished to consume. The dawnfrost layering the grass crunched noisily beneath his large paws, solidifying the notion that the wolf was uninterested in going unnoticed. He paused briefly to heft himself up on his hind legs, digging in his claws high up on the tree's trunk, leaving severe gouge marks for the casual passerby to notice.