Cricket Creek Bog amgylchynu

He was fucking desperate. He needed to add to the woods, or else the nearer packs would encroach even more on their space, and he simply wasn’t willing to leave the woods. They were full of game, hearty and well warmed from the heavy and thick trees that surrounded and filled the woods. It was nigh junglesque, and it hadn’t run dry. Should other wolves manage to learn of how plentiful the woods were, there would surely be a war over the lands - and how would Cry win a war without soldiers? 

The ebonian bled as a shadow through the tangle of woods and more tundras as he searched high and low for scents of other wolves. Though he hadn’t considered Colt a threat, all wolves fought for lands and territory. Cry wanted to raise his family in those woods, and be damned anyone trying to stop him. Almost on to mania, the ex-Assassin scoured the grounds for pawprints like a hunter of their kind would. And apparently,
he did it well.

Frigid irises snapped to a set of prints that began to lead over to the wetlands of Tutku, and his dark heart leapt forward a few beats. A swift scan around illusioned the man into a belief that this wolf was alone- 
this was clearly luck. 

So forward, he pursued this mystery, completely throwing out the possibility that this could be yet another trap. He was willing to risk it. 

“Hello?” He called out, hoping to not only be heard, but considered.