Neverwinter Forest Some call it stalking, I say walking, just extremely close behind

After having sprained his paw- it functioned too well to be broken, though without October around, he could only assume it hadn't been injured too badly- his patrols around the borders had been a bit slower, but he'd pushed himself to do it nonetheless, and though he often woke up quite stiff, the movement helped, and kept the swelling down. Perhaps it was the cold weather that made him feel stiffer than he thought he ought to- but Shrike's medical knowledge was relatively slim, so he simply believed he was doing the right thing in keeping in motion to keep his ankle from losing its strength. 

He heard a howl not far along the borders ahead of him, so he huffed a soft breath and picked up the pace slightly, moving into an ambling trot to greet whoever it was that had called for Kjalarr, had he not met the stranger first. He was not best pleased about the weather- cold rain didn't make him feel any better about the changing seasons- but there was nothing he could do about that. Weather was uncontrollable. 

The stranger came into sight and he slowed to a walk, managing to hide the pain in his right ankle fairly well as he walked, hairs along his spine sticking up slightly, though somewhat clumped together from the fallen rain. The dark stranger looked quite poor, with a flat coat doing a poor job of hiding a gaunt, hungry look. Another loner, he suspected, hungry and looking for a home during the winter. He stopped short of the wolf, a rather feminine fellow, whom Shrike immediately, by default, took to be a male. He studied his features calmly, and chuffed softly, encouraging the stranger to begin with an introduction and statement of purpose, as was custom.