Otter Creek i'd rather you did not turn your skunk bath into a giant cocktail

He's more or less on Blackfeather's borders but I'd love for him to encounter someone outside the pack :)

The head of some unfortunate and nameless wolf was exposed as the wind piled the snow away from it. There were no eyes in the eye sockets and yet, the boy felt that the dead was looking at him. He stared back, fascinated by the snarl that was wrought in its features by the tightening and drawing of its decaying skin; captivated by the plane of bone that ended in a jagged fringe where a nose should have been; transfixed by the revelation that a wolf is mortal, that a wolf under its fur is no different than prey.

His eyes had feasted on the macabre furnishing enough. Drawn to the scent of blood and rot, Euron stepped nearer. He lowered his nose to the reeking head. He sniffed. He licked. He chewed on a tough bit of flesh that had been torn and had peeled up and withered. His teeth plucked at fur that struggled to cling to the hide and his tail wagged at the fun of yanking out these tufts. The boy leapt to his feet with a playful woof and darted in and out at the head, batting it with his paws and nipping it as if encouraging it to rise and chase him.