Phoenix Maplewood before we talk of war

The male could detect traces of another pack along the edges of the wood, but it was difficult to tell if they'd merely passed through in recent past, or if they'd settled more permanently in the area. For the moment, he played it safe and kept to the outskirts, although he was deep enough into the trees he still feared he might be violently repelled. It was worth the risk, he thought. It was the height of summer, and although he'd shed his generous winter coat, it was still uncomfortable to travel under the heat of the sun. Besides, he was hungry, and it seemed easier to hunt under the cover of trees than out in the open.

At the moment, he was tracking a bevy of grouse through the undergrowth, nose to the ground but ears swivelling endlessly. He was nervous about hunting this close to a pack, but a wolf had to eat when he had the chance.