Duck Lake know what you want

Cry hadn't had the oppertunity to take time to himself, not that it mattered much to him. He was a single wolf, pulling the work of many, single as sand sediments abroad a coastline. It was tedious what he was involved in, both introducing the healer to the pack and having near no regard for packmates. Yes, he was a pack wolf, but the life of a loner was well embalmed in him, and with the distance he felt within the pack, nothing bonded well with him. He continuously slept well near the border, easy distance to end and begin anew within the lands of the Unclaimed. Nothing prevented him from leaving, and he was free to do such.
He wandered farther and farther from the pack lands, but he always came back. He had to, or else how would he claim to be a pack wolf?

The shadow prince kept up his silent gait to Duck Lake, his intent to get as many duck pelts as he could for the whelping den of the pregnate female. He hadn't been to the lake in a while, and the tranquility of the water hole was enough to draw several visitors, and today was one of those days, apparently. The sharp gaze of his glacials landed on a form, lupine, and far enough to where he could just barely catch a scent. Up on a barely raised mound the wolf resided, and perched in the position of relaxation, overviewing the wilderness, below.

Cry decided for once that he had a second to spare, a break from his mission, and the assassin made his way to the higher grounds. Upon the scense, the void sheathed wolf found a wolf whos pelt coloration he had not ever stumbled across. It was gorgeous, shade melting into others with less than the usual hazard most lupine coats came in. Distinct paths of colors ran across the frame in an elegant though dangerous path, daring the mind to wander through the heritage of not only this girl, but the genes of her own Makers. She was gorgeous, quite the downfall of a plainly cloaked male of the most abyssmal black, only able to awe with a calm demeanor, handsome figure, and unbreakable glacial blue eyes.

And just as he took in the sight, he murmured only loud enough for his baritones to reach to the reclining girl, "It's not often someone watches easy meals just sit before them. Either you lack hunger, or your look down on this food platter."

Cry awaited the approval or denial of his presence, standing with a relaxed illusion though his muscles were wired to preparation for any sudden lunges or movements that would indicate hostility. Patiently, he awaited a response.