Heron Lake Plateau and rut them 'gainst the forest floor

So far Svalinn was being outwitted by the desperate songbird. It wedged itself among the thorns of some bushes, and before he could puzzle around the ouchy bits, he was distracted by the arrival of Elwood. His eyes bulged at the older wolf, and he physically receded from his unfamiliarity. But the switch to flee was only half flipped, and he edged forward again with encouragement. It was at this point that the cub realized this wolf smelled strangely familiar, causing him to flex his nostrils repeatedly in an effort to identify this male.

It was hard for him to reconcile the act of putting a face to a scent, rather than the other way around as he was use to,  but eventually Svalinn came to the conclusion that this was his packmate -- one of the ingrained pack-scents Mama had directed him to memorize. Oh good -- a servant's come! the entitled brute thought. In his cutest, most "help me I'm just a baby" voice, he asked: "you get burd?" and scooting forward, he wagged his tail hopefully.