Blackfeather Woods devoted to destruction

Aside from the steel-coated stranger from days before, no one new had come to the glen in a while. The usual retinue of caretakers made their presences known now and again, but otherwise the three cubs were left to their own devices. More often than not they could be found in a ball with one another, conserving heat against the winter cold that was creeping closer by the day. Today, Ramsay was off by himself, farther from the den than was probably advisable.

He sat near the gentlest slope into the Glen, head tilted back and giant ears flopping down the length of his shoulders. Wolves came from up there. He wasn't strong enough or balanced enough to make the climb, and he would never be allowed at his age anyway, but he associated it with other wolves. There was a Something beyond the slope that he was maddeningly curious about. He was quickly outgrowing the bounds of the Glen, particularly because aside from his siblings and their occasional visitors, there wasn't much to stimulate them here.

The moment his keen blue eyes picked out the motion of a black shape, Ramsay hopped to his feet—still utilizing an awkward frog hop that emphasized his peculiar appearance—and began to wag his tail. He loved visitors, and while that was probably not always going to be the case due to the harsh treatment he was certain to receive as he aged, there was nothing stopping Ramsay from being excited about any and all visitors to the Glen. This one looked oddly like a giant version of Euron, but that meant absolutely nothing to Ramsay at this stage.

Hope it's cool I assumed Cicero came down the slope. If he instead came from the Web or ravine, let me know and I'll adjust!