Otter Creek Blame it on my own sick pride

Despite her attempt at leaving the man be with his meal, his nose, before his ears picked up the familiar - yet estranged smell - while he dug through the carcass, feeding his belly would have to wait for the time being. There was something far more... interesting near by. The pack near by had a member that had wandered from their borders, and into his immediate presence. Raising his head from the fallen beast, the ruby optics of the man bore into the dark fur of the damsel that had wandered to the lake. 

He had a feeling he would run into one of them eventually.

You are from the pack who's borders are marked by blood. A bit of overkill, don't you think? He mocked with a coy tone, waiting to see what kind of reaction he would get from her. What kind of wolves were they behind that clearly marked border?