Swiftcurrent Creek Ghosts

Mild autumn days made for easy travel across the wilderness. Sweet grass, late summer berries, and warm sunshine accompanied Valtyr on his journey back into Teekon. Though the trail was kind, it was a journey he'd never thought would befall him. His youth in this western scrim was but a distant memory -- he had left it for a more promising life out East. The young wolf had found a home, held a rank, and nurtured a budding family. Yet, like most things in the wild, it had scattered abruptly.

These days, the sooty man tried to think of other things... or nothing at all. He meandered with a blank stare towards a distant creek, but the faint smell of pack put him on alert. The scent was old... quite old, and he relaxed knowing that whoever occupied these lands had moved on some time ago. He passed, what he figured was, their meeting place and wove his way through an old den site. Peeking his snout into one of the hollowed homes beneath a grand tree, he snorted up a cloud of dust and stale perfumes. A strand of light caught a tuft of fur's frayed edge snagged in a twisted root -- red and silver hair tangled together. He blinked slowly, thinking of his own daughter, Ratha, and continued on towards the direction of water, leaving the old burrow behind, unaware it was the place of his own birth.