Sequoia Coast how many centuries deep is your wound?

caw does not often consider borders to be particularly serious. he spends much of his time – not ignoring them, no, but testing them, seeing how many wolves he can draw after him and how far they will go. it is not the safest activity, as avis is always quick to remind him, but caw has very little opportunity to feel anything but placid calm.
 
there are many border-scents on the coast – caw has never seen so many packs crammed into so little space before. but he trots cheerfully by the borders, mere paw-lengths from crossing over, and nobody comes to visit him, so either they are waiting for him to actually step over their invisible boundary or they are not around and caw is not drawing an entire pack to him for the sake of a scuffle. the most interesting things he has seen so far -- namely the collar and the smoke-smelling stranger -- were around here and he is hoping he will find more.
 
so perhaps he is not in the greatest of moods as he wanders his way down the edge of the tangle, but a better mood is rather nebulous to him anyway. he chatters idly away in latin while he walks, and occasionally avis inserts a comment of her own, but caw does not necessarily need a conversation partner to talk.
 
he only pauses when a lazy inhale brings a familiar pack-scent to his nose, and caw glances up to see a large reddish-brown figure amidst the grass.
 
his ears lift, head cocking as raw-blood eyes focus on the wolf ahead. “scio odor,” he says, and feels avis turn at the same time that he starts trotting forward, directly towards the stranger. he is hoping she will have the same collar as the other similar-smelling wolf he met, but as he draws close there is nothing, and he frowns as though she has done this specifically to inconvenience him.
 
“collare!” he demands, continuing to walk closer with his usual disregard for personal space, muzzle aimed directly for the woman's neck as though she is hiding it from him. but then, latin is a language he has not seen a single wolf use since he left his home, despite its clear superiority; he will have to make do. “neck band," he elaborates eagerly, ears perked up high; surely this will make sense. "other had. same smell. where is?”