Blackfeather Woods a haunt of roulette dares

With his bladder emptied there was nothing left for him to use to cover the rest of the marks, so he began to scour the dirt with his claws, gouging at it and making sure he left his scent strongly in place. He was mid-cut on another patch of ferns and dirt when the route behind him became blocked, and he twisted to watch as Ramsay emerged. The stunted body might've startled other wolves as it crept from the darkness, but it was a figure that Titmouse appreciated; he didn't see anything different about Ramsay and the rest of the pack (save for a more invested attitude, perhaps).

The boys words caused Titmouse's ears to twist, and he huffed a breath — merely trying to affirm what he'd stated. He dipped his head at the dirt and tried to draw the warrior's attention to where he'd been working — there, and there, and there, and there — his tail raising and wagging confidently as if he were saying, I'm fixing it! I'm fixing it!