Great Bear Wilderness Precious and Fragile Things

A lone wolf had no pack, and thus, occupied their time elsewhere. Mostly wandering from place to place, scavenging what leftovers there were to find. The situation was no different for Gramps, and he trotted a slow, steady, yet sure pace, confident the exercise was vital for his continued health. Of course, his demeanor was a direct threat to it, but he was old and set in his ways. Old men didn't change, they just got crankier.

And so it was when Gramps spotted another wolf on the horizon, he forgot to smell, and trotted forwards for a better look. Through eyes clustered with dried eye-fluids, sleepers, as some called them, he could see it closer here.

He shuddered with the horror of what he saw.

"Old hag!", he shouted out at Dovev.

"Ugly old fart!", he continued his tirade of insults.

"Ugly, ugly, ugly! How could anyone look as disgusting as you! You ought to dig yourself a hole. So that you can roll over and die in it. Ain't no one want to get near ugly as bad as you! You so ugly, you contagious! ", his grammar declined, but he didn't care. It was the quality of insults that mattered. Two points if he could make the stranger cry.