Deepwood Weald Beneath the dense trees

Memphis was halfway done with his small meal, and there were still, however, some remaining meats that clung to the bones of the lifeless creature. When he decided to part his maw to take another bite of the bloodstained hare, a set of paws entered the scene, taking him slightly off-guard, his left medium ear swiveling at the puffing sound that was paired with his quiet surroundings. With slight anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach, Memphis lifted his skull and twirled his body around when a figure in his peripheral vision caught his attention. The outward appearance was hard to discern at this foggy distance, but he could tell that it was a fully grown wolf. A prolonged breath of what sounded like defeat escaped his maw, though to Memphis – it was only a normal breath that helped him maintain his composure. Silence engulfed him for a moment or two as he wondered if the stranger was looking for a golden opportunity to steal his reward.

The average male licked his muzzle and moved forward at a deliberate pace, his cinnamon eyes instantly sharpening with wariness, the details of the figure were coming into sharper focus, such as the bushy, light amber and blonde pelt that swathed a sturdy frame. He halted a respectable distance away from the tall wolf, and likely female judging by her scent. His brown orbs raked across her for a brief moment, assessing her demeanor and body language in an attempt to get a better read on her. She was quietly watching the action, and she didn't seem to exhibit any signs of aggression. Memphis had learned to be wary of others, but he had also learned that there was good in this world too and that it wasn't to be passed up unless it threatened one's survival.

He maintained a calm posture and offered the female a polite inclination of his head, noticing her minor scars near her left honey eye. "Hello." He spoke in a voice as soft as a whisper, but loud enough to be carried across the colorful undergrowth. Without fixing too much on the female's scars, he waited patiently for words to escape her muzzle, his face portraying a mix of curiosity and cautions. The occasional wind caressed his thick pelt and enveloped him in its circle of slight restlessness. Memphis's ebony nose wrinkled lightly, drawing in the scent of her to learn more about them. The odor of a specific tree and ragweed wafted to him, mingled with the sweet scents of flowers. It was evident that this blonde wolf dwelt in the pack territory.