Lost Creek Hollow day trip

The Creek is almost the same even without the pack. He hardly notices their absence, really. It doesn't affect him at all.
That's what he tells himself, anyway. It might be more effective if he didn't still find himself at the faded remnants of the border every day, pacing, keeping his attention trained outside the territory as if someone might emerge any day. As if Terance and Arbiter might appear to tell him that they've decided to return, that they were wrong to leave. He knows that won't happen — but the fact that he can't help hoping for it anyway bothers him a little. He doesn't need them, surely.
Yet here he is, pacing along the outskirts of the territory again. He pauses, distracted suddenly by scents on the cold winter breeze, fresher than the stale trails he's passed a hundred times. Ears flicking back against his skull, he sets off after them without hesitation. A frown tugs at his features when he spots a girl around his age lingering at the faded borders. Who're you? He calls as he approaches, voice level and passive but not quite welcoming. He's never seen this girl before, and he doesn't smell any of his former packmates on her, so he can't help feeling a touch wary.