Golden Glade Its not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog

Ehm, I imagine Feyre would spot him attempting to sneak in? Also sorry for crappy post, I need to get back to writing properly.

Goliath had been roaming Teekon Wilds ever since his banishment from Drageda. He travelled around the Sunspires and lived off of the fruits of the flatlands and preyed the rivers. Hiding from other wolves and thus any help, the once large supply of fat  that once covered his flesh transformed into a mix of muscle that developed his stature into a more rugged, blubber-like flesh- one of the most important traits that helped him survive for such a long period alone. The 4 largest cuspids which lined his fangs and were once thick and dull became sharp and curved.

He had been finally arriving into the Tuktu Hinterlands, following the legs of the Alpine Lake, preying on the variety of fish that inhabited the small streams that led to Cricket Creek bog. Warm weather finally arrived, making it a problem for someone with his bulk, so standing perched above the stream with his legs in the water was one of the best ways for him to cool down.

He had been busy chasing a specific smallbass that had escaped his grasp and dodged it's fate several times. It was only when he reached the stream's fingertips and finally cornered the fish did he notice he had begun to tresspass into a pack's territory. 

Normally, he would recede back. Any and all interactions he had previously with the packs he had encountered were hostile, but something compelled him. He had never smelled this pack before, perhaps it was new- or just distant, but he knew that deep into their grounds must have been a reserve- easy food, and he would only need to barrage through any guards that defended the borders.

He trodded slowly towards the Golden Glade forest, keeping his giant muzzle to the ground, and his thick legs tense to sprint- hoping that he would not get caught.