if i had a heart

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Ever since the afternoon that Ragnar, Julooke, and he had gone to meet with the wolves of the island pack, Verrine had made the river and shoreline the most frequent locations of his patrols. He saw little of Julooke, which he disliked, but he knew this was important. These wolves were a real threat of the most dangerous kind -- the kind that masqueraded under the guise of peace and harmony. They would smile and make nice with their neighbors, while picking prey off said neighbors' hunting grounds when they weren't looking and thus taking food out of the Ridge pack's (in particular, the Ridge puppies') mouths. That, in Verrine's mind, was unacceptable and he wouldn't tolerate it. He didn't have the power to run them off their island, but if he caught one of them on his side of the river, he would teach them a thorough and unforgettable lesson about infringing on other packs' back doorsteps.

Wet sand softly chafed his toes as he walked in the surf, foamy seawater rushing over his ankles every few moments. This patrol was mostly business, of course, but there was a bit of pleasure in it as well. He liked the ocean and found it a relaxing place to be, not to mention it was quite a bit cooler here than at the Ridge, a bit further inland. The wind coming off the water was cool and refreshing, tousling his fur with gentle fingers and leaving salty kisses on his lips. His eyes scanned the shoreline ahead and along the banks of the Totoka River as it emptied into the sea, and frequently moved out to linger on the island. He could smell foreign scents on the ocean wind, scents that he knew belonged to the rival wolves out there.

But a brief lull in the breeze brought him a different scent, one that was very familiar. Looking around, he spied a burly, rugged figure in white nearby. "Ragnar!" he called, a grin on his face. He knew the swarthy Viking was out here for the same reason he himself was, and it pleased him that he would not patrol alone today.