Blackfeather Woods two years gone, came back as some bones and so cynical

Sorry this is so late, things have been wild. Italics are Inuttut.

There was not much for Kove to do, his morning patrol completed and the waiting game started for the evening one. He was resting—his joints ached less as the cold faded away, but he still had days when things weren’t exactly how they’d once been—when he heard the woman’s call, and promptly ended his break in order to answer it; being a ways off yet, he howled back in response to her own, letting her know he was at least present within the woods.

Upon his arrival, he noticed immediately the unknown pair that accompanied his fellow northerner, over each of which he glanced before settling his gaze on the face that was familiar. “Who are they?” he asked her, motioning to each with his nose. Though there appeared to be some familiarity between the trio, he did not piece together that they were related; the paleness of one’s coat was something he’d long ago stopped associated solely with the north, for not all that wore the snow were born from it.