For all your darkness and hope

Ordinarily, he would've been in his den with Julooke by now. He had spent the afternoon patrolling and fortifying the boundaries of his packlands, and simultaneously scouting out game trails and signs of prey. As evening had fallen he'd found a fresh deer trail, one that he thought had been used by a fairly good-sized group of deer. Though it led out of Stavanger's packlands, he couldn't resist following it a ways and seeing where it went. He'd tracked it for a while out along the coastline, the trail meandering through grasslands rife with sand spurs and sea oats, but hadn't managed to find the deer. After sunset, as darkness was falling, he turned around and made his way back home.

On his way, though, he came across a scent that was a little too close to their territory for comfort. It wasn't the scent of one of their own, but it was nevertheless a familiar scent. He had a suspicion who it might belong to, though he wasn't entirely sure. He tracked it for a while, though, and when he emerged over a grassy hillock, he saw that his suspicion was correct. It was the sandy-coated she-wolf that had met them the day that Julooke, Ragnar, and he had paid a visit to Wheeling Gull Isle to deliver their warning. You have GOT to be kidding me, he thought to himself, anger stirring in him as he watched her wander slowly through the darkness toward his new home. We moved away from those bastards and they STILL won't leave us alone.

Taking off at a fast lope, he made his way toward the she-wolf. As he neared her, he announced his presence with a harsh, rumbling growl. He wouldn't outright attack her, but he'd make it abundantly clear that she and her followers were not welcome here (…in case they had failed to pick up on that previously).