Broken Antler Fen walking on glass

The smell of a pack. Not one that held Raleska's scent or anybody else he recognized, but one that would do for the time being. Winter was not quite as harsh here as it was in the north, but it was just as deadly, and Kaertok knew he couldn't go living by himself forever. The white wolf settled down onto his haunches, tilted his head back, and howled. If this pack was worth its salt, somebody would come to greet him. If not, he'd find another that was worthy.