Cricket Creek Bog fragile stuff, all show

Quite often, border patrols led Bronco outside of the claimed territory and toward potential hunting opportunities, and occasionally, when he caught the scent of a loner wandering near, he would pursue it simply to check in on the wolves wandering in the area. The majority of them seemed to be fairly transient, and content to continue along in their travels. He'd been meandering along the creek in hopes of finding signs of muskrats or other prey animals that might live in the area when he happened along the tracks of a stranger. Curious, he pursued the male's tracks until he could see him in the distance, drinking from the clear water. 

Bronco was reminded of summer storm clouds when he looked at the male's pelt- dark, steely, somewhat blue-ish greys, darkening over his shoulders where a unique dorsal stripe of mahogany fanned out over his shoulders, up the mane-like fur along his neck, and to the back of his head. He was an impressive size, and in the sort of muscled condition that led Bronco to believe he ought to mind his manners; he leapt to the conclusion that this striking male would be well trained in the art of combat. He could only hope that he was as well-composed as his structure was, and that he wasn't the sort to light a fuse that was all too short, simply because he was being interrupted by a stranger. 

He swallowed hard. Generally, he had more confidence when he met strangers...But something about this fellow made Bronco feel somewhat self-aware, and a bit vulnerable. Something made his heart race. He put on a soft smile, nonetheless, and chuffed, to get the male's attention.