Broken Boulder my head's above the rain and roses

Oftentimes, Arrluk kept to the outermost reaches of the territory, away from prying eyes. When he wasn’t there, he was in one of the neighbouring territories, and sometimes even beyond those; he hung around, checking in when he felt like it, but was fairly detached from the others. He enjoyed his travels, especially since the area was still so new to him, and so he rarely kept still for long. That day, however, he was just returning from a short adventure away when he heard the howl, the origin point deeper than he currently cared to go into the territory; he turned his muzzle in the direction whence the voices came and considered seeking out the owners, but abandoned the thought as he, instead, continued to linger at the edges of the pack’s claim. From there, he tilted his head back and joined in on their song, rich baritones reaching out to melt into their own tones.