Stone Circle Pour me one for the road

Raw paws trot their way across the meadow making up Easthollow's territory, their lethargic limping juxtapositioned with the autumnal beauty of the wildflower-laden moor. The lanky body carried by these nimble paws swayed, tired and overexerted from a whole day spent travelling in search of a new home. The Teekon Wilds were a new sight to see for the wolf known as Asbjørn, whom had grown up far away from these lands. As he padded onwards he thought of his old pack and knew that although him and his littermates had shared pleasant memories growing up, it was time for him to leave the nest and create a life of his own.

Tired navy eyes glanced upwards towards the horizon as the scents of strangers flooded Asbjørn's senses, bringing about a sudden, sharp pang of anxiousness and regret. He was bound to be discovered here; it seemed that this territory had already been claimed, judging by the potent smells of other wolves nearby. Asbjørn was a cowardly thing, and feared the potential to meet aggressively dominant strangers who perhaps wouldn't be as accomodating as others. His body was thankful, however; perhaps he'd finally be able to get a good night's rest with the luxury of a pack to protect him from the dangers of the world.

Asbjørn, panting now, perked his ears and narrowed his eyes, spotting what appeared to be a circular structure composed of columns of ragged rock. Having noticed that wafts of potent wolf smell was coming from that general direction, Asbjørn hesitantly continued onwards, tongue lolling out from thirst. He knew that he was bound to be approached soon enough by a resident of these moorlands, and dreaded that greatly.