Swiftcurrent Creek took an oath by the blood of my hand

It was in the dead of night that he did approach, pelt lit by the stars and the moon - they casted down a magnificent spotlight upon his worn body, paling his fur and sparkling in his eyes. Shadows crept longingly from their caverns and unknown creatures slithered from their dens to feed in the safety of darkness, where they could drape themselves in black and hide from the hungry jaws of predators; it was a dangerous time too, for many hunters did stalk the night, tracking down the prey that were brave enough to test them and their capabilities.

The smoky traveller paused, leathery nose widening with the inhales of air he took - a pack rested here, alongside the creek. His body tensed, as though preparing for some vicious beast to come sauntering out of the darkness with gaping jaws, ready to consume him in his nightmares. Nothing came. It was only the chirping of grasshoppers that met his ears, the gentle swish of water and humming of idle wildlife that embraced him. He was as still as a stone statue, frozen in place by the very muscles underneath his skin, but with time they relaxed, body seeming to slump as the exhaustion took hold. He would not collapse, no, but he was in dire need of a rest. Sleep did not come with ease, and his eyes had not closed for a great time.

With a look of solemnity upon his chiselled features, the valento's muzzle reached hesitantly into the air and from betwixt his lips came a summon - he would wait here, prepare for wolves to approach and question his presence at their borders. The idea of uniting with a pack disgusted him, in reality, for he was a lone wolf at heart. He had been raised on the road, with only one wolf as companion. Why was he doing this again? Oh yeah, an experiment. Testing the waters.

That's what this was.