Great Bear Wilderness from an antediluvian bane

IT'S ABOUT FREAKING TIME, JEEZ. XD

Also, @Julooke -- I assumed that Jules would have told Verrine about Keith/Moonbane's attack after it happened, which is why I referenced it here. If you'd prefer I didn't, I'll be glad to edit this post and avoid mentioning it in future posts. Just let me know. ♥

Petrichor, the smell of the rain -- the hearty scent of damp, sun-baked earth, the summery fragrance of flowers jeweled with fat, sparkling drops, the clean, pure aroma of warm mist that hung in the air after showers had passed. He loved that smell. It was so rejuvenating, so refreshing. It brought him back to who he was, reminded him of the beauty of being alive and wild and free. Rays of sun broke through occasional gaps in the clouds, lighting up rain-kissed leaves like so many sparkling emeralds, while across the sky a half-rainbow arched brightly over the treetops. Moments later, turgid clouds of stormy grey would pass across the sun again, returning the world to veils of mist and subdued shades of grey.

Verrine did not often venture outside of his packlands, but in the aftermath of a stranger's attack on Julooke, he found it difficult to stay home. Her attacker's scent had been fresh on her coat the night she'd returned to him a terrified and upset mess, and though he hadn't told her yet, he had committed that scent to memory and had vowed to track down and kill the son of a bitch. He was wandering somewhere south of his territory, well away from Stavanger's boundaries, hoping to come across that foul bastard's scent but knowing the chances of that happening were probably slim.

He did come across a scent, however, that stopped him in his tracks. It was dim in his memory, distant and out of focus, but it tickled the same sense of belonging, home, and familiarity as did the fresh, cleansing fragrance of petrichor, a scent so reminiscent of the safe, warm darkness of a whelping den. He looked around him for a long moment before finally glimpsing a mottled figure moving among the trees, its coat of richly earthen tones muted in the greyness of the afternoon. The set of those shoulders, the lines of that physique, the angle of that jaw…those were the melodies to the subtle music of that vaguely-familiar scent. He knew who it was that he watched, and a soft whine escaped his throat as his tail involuntarily began to wave, slowly.