Blackfeather Woods the heart's content

Ramsay slipped into the old habit of solitude so easily that he often forgot he was supposed to be leading a pack. Days had passed since the last time he interacted with anyone that wasn't Maegi or Parvarti, long enough for his legs to feel stiff and his body lazy as he plodded through the territory's eastern swamp. This wasn't like him. Ramsay was a diligent wolf in his own little way, but he was also a loner by nature. What he thought he wanted and what actually suited him were rather different things. That was made clear by the lack of motivation for anything else that followed the birth of his offspring; now they were more important than these woods to him.

There were still borders to tend, however, and at last he reached them. His face deepened into a scowl as he inspected them; the scents were not faint, but they were not dominated by his either. Aiming to remedy that, Ramsay began a patrol, lifting his leg mechanically every few feet to refresh his own scent markers. He was mid-piss when the sucking sound of someone walking through mud reached his upturned ears. Stopping abruptly, the Morta flagged his short tail and steered his truncated body fiercely toward the sound.

Ibis and Okeanos materialized very suddenly and much too close to his claim for comfort. Ramsay met them with a warning growl and an authoritative stance. Cold eyes roved over them both and softened only a little when he realized they were just yearlings; his soft spot for the young seemed to have changed somewhat now that he had his own. You're too close, he brusquely told them.