Haunted Wood Slumming it with the poor.

Santi is up early to go catch some breakfast, maybe patrol the border a bit. When he sees the damndest thing: another wolf that he doesn’t know in their territory. How unusual. He thinks fleetingly as eyes settle onto the stranger from afar; they're smaller than himself, ragged, and thin. It’s off-white fur slightly dirty looking from this distance. Santi briefly wonders if they’d wondered over for some food knowing there’s another pack here. For how much they patrol their borders, there’s no way their scent isn’t everywhere.

He starts in a trot to the stranger and as he gets closer finally settles into a languid walk. Definitely within a comfortable distance of a bout fifteen feet, Santi’s usual smirk shows on his face–always so deadly and mischievous.

“Now, who are you?” The larger wolf asks in his Spanish lilt. Then, he gives a tilt of his head, “You lost, amigo?” He asks teasingly.