Bearclaw Valley and he sings to me real low

She was determined, that part was always clear.  The pale devil had swept across the valley on the tail of a coyote that had danced beyond their borders for a short time.  It would not do.  She would not let the creature think it was okay to slip past their borders and possibly endanger her future children, even if they might be months away.  The goddamn thing must have been moving at a hell of a pace -- perhaps it had realized it was being followed by a creature that was keen to kill it, but it was slowly becoming obvious that Treason wasn't going to have a chance to chew it into a billion tiny bits.  It was unfortunate, but such was life -- she'd just have to pay closer attention to the borders over the next few days.

By now Treason had wandered quite a ways.  She was about to turn around and head home when something new grabbed her attention, the trail of a wolf that had scents of another familiar scent along with him.  Stigmata, had found another pack, eh?  She wondered if he had finally gotten over his hatred of the sisters or he was still preaching how bad they were.  At the very least she could figure out where that guy went so she could see if it exploded from afar.  Poaching useful people from him might be entertaining, though.

And so, Treason wound her way towards the man, curious but no longer hunting with the same intensity as before.  Perhaps this was Bearclaw?  It sounded like the right location, at least... It wasn't a place she was familiar with.  The black silhouette that eventually came into view almost certainly was the wolf she was tracking.  She whuffed to him, eyeballing his perch and the entry to the land beyond.  Was there something interesting in there that she wasn't scenting?