Kintla Flatlands we can't compete with the squirrels

His leg, he thought, was getting far less sensetive to changes in temperature. It no longer began to ache at the slightest chill, and he was able to go several days without succumbing to the desire for a nice, hot soak. This came as no small amount of relief to the aging male, who'd begun to wonder how he'd get his family through the winter with a bum leg and an injured daughter to boot, but it was looking like he might only need to worry about one of those things.

He was out of the territory, today, checking around for scents that shouldn't be there or otherwise needed his attention. Where a coyote had marked a tentative question, the male left his scent heavy and clear: We live here, now. They'd have to find someplace else. And, when he came across a somewhat familiar scent, Grayday moved to investigate, wondering what was keeping the little family so close to his land - circling it, almost.

"I didn't catch your name, the last time we met," he called to the girl, moving to stand a couple dozen yards from the other wolf.