Bearclaw Valley And I'll be in Scotland afore ye

She had, admittedly, not been a great packmember so far. It wasn't really her fault (yes it was), but she was a wanderer by heart, flighty and distracted. She was old enough to have some sense of responsibility, though this was mostly fueled by her curiosity for what other schmucks Merrick nabbed in his Valley with the promise of bears and freedom.

She figured that as a young pack, they'd be interested in marking their borders. She had to add her scent to the borders as well, so merged the two desires at once, trotting along the invisible line. She peed here and there, rubbing and scratching on the more prominent trees.

As she suspected, she was not alone. Though, the present company was a bit odd. A dog, of all things. The most dog-like dog she had seen in a while, all strange wiry fur and floppy ears. She snorted, unsure if he was a member of the pack. Merrick was allowing bears in, so dogs didn't seem that much of a stretch. Mornin', she greeted the foliage specked dog. Uh, I'm guessin' yer wit' us then, huh? Dogs were always a wildcard. She had met a few that naively joined packs, having dreamed of the wild all their lives behind their white-picket fences. It never seemed to end well. There was another confronting the dog, with lovely purple eyes. Is he wit us? she asked the black, clearly lupine figure.