Bearclaw Valley Meet me inside

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The wolves of Bearclaw Valley had made an distinct border, the markings were fresh and generous. Pack, thought Galena, but new. The scent was unmistakably familiar, indeed the one she had gathered from the trio... and it didn't take long for a scout to appear.

He looked a wreck -- dark and disheveled, a smattering of obsidian and rust painted on a wiry figure. One ear was tattered to pieces, the opposite eye a gruesome hole in his head. A patchwork of old wounds (and some new?) painted his coat like a Jackson Pollock. Yet, despite his run-down appearance, a dangerous bite accompanied his leering orange gaze... much like the dark woman's. Galena's brows visibly raised in surprise, wondering what unfortunate life this creature had endured so far. Never would she had guessed he was the leader of the fledgling Ursus.

The greeting he called out was of the friendly variety, accompanied by a schmear of charm. "I'd like that," she responded with a cheshire smile, veiling her disgust distrust of the man. 

Only a moment later a third joined their company: a wolf of almost every opposite to the first. She was strong-looking and prime, a spindling of nutmeg agouti with a windswept appearance. "One of yours?" She asked the man.

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