Otter Creek it seems only fitting

The yearnings of late-afternoon had drawn Atshen from his wooded home and out into the open of the Creek territory. A symphony greeted him, and it hummed softly in the frigid Winter breeze. Stalking slowly, Atshen advanced towards the river with hopes of quenching his thirst. The snow was receding with each day and making way for Spring. Though there was still a decent amount of snow on the ground, the Silencer noticed it had gone down quite a bit. 

He looked around as he approached, catching sight of another not too far off from where he was. A gentle sniff told him that the other was not from a pack he recognized-- and, honestly, it didn't seem as if this wolf held the scent of any alliance. 

Drawing himself to the river's bank, Atshen bowed to the semi-frozen surface of the creek and lapped at it as he drank, not paying much mind to the other wolf.