Bearclaw Valley there are no immortals in this life; even stories come to die

dated after her heat!

Ikkalrok patrolled, her mind solely on protecting the borders and establishing their scent there. It seemed well maintained, but Ikkalrok was a woman who understood that sometimes numbers did matter. In this lot, she was not sure; she had yet to meet the entirety of the pack. If there were more wolves like her mate, likely not. But she was not a lazy woman, and would not pretend to be for the sake of getting by. No, Ikkalrok was a working woman.

Broad paws left their mark on the borders muddied from the rain. They were difficult to distinguish from that of a bears in size, but were different in plenty of other regard that foretold she was solely wolf. Mutely she lumbered, round ears pricked as she sniffled at the stale waters at her feet. Nothing new or troublesome, and so she moved on.