Wapun Meadow Apricot Wishes

like birk, the attalus had caught wind of the nearby pack -- it rankled his nerves and he steered clear of it. he did not wish to draw attention to himself or his brother garait, who presently was still healing. venextos himself sported wounds still, though his limp had mostly dissipated and the cuts on his muzzle had closed.

as he stalked through the valley he spotted another wolf barely perceptible between the snow and the sky. curious but not outwardly friendly, he stopped along the ridge he was traveling and regarded the stranger. it was not skwol, the large wolf he had encountered in the vale -- yet like every wolf he had met so far, it sported a pale pelage not unlike his own.

while he did not trot down to the wolf to greet him, he stopped -- the wind would make his presence known shortly enough.