Thoughts

It was rare he strayed from the borders of the pack he pledged himself too – and yet, as the aspiring guardian slipped past the scents of those he was becoming familiar with, he found himself trailing along the edges of the mountains. Hours passed, though he took little heed to it. His eyes sought out the lands that rolled before him, keeping watch for anything that might be of use to the Creek – whether news, or prey.

Instead, as he came upon an expansive meadow, his gaze fell upon a pale cream she-wolf. He did not recognize her – likely only because he had been drawn in to his own thoughts as of late. Clearing his throat and uttering a low bark as greeting, the cinnamon male prowled forward leisurely, though his figure lifted as he attempted to stake claim to dominance over the stranger. “You’re from the Creek,” he announced, dipping his creamy muzzle down in way of quiet greeting. “I haven’t seen you around before.”