when it starts to thunder they all stare.

Sitri padded along the northern part of the pack lands. His red eyes alighting on the area as he assessed and lurked, and then continued on. He carried a hare and a marmot in his large jaws. He hunted as he patrolled he'd deposit it all later, for now he was just walking. He wasn't near a cache anyway.

Large brown paws tore up the ground as he went, while hefty shoulders and body blocked out the son to any small creature near him, his shadow danced along the side of the brute, playing growing large and small, and back again.

He would ever so often mark a span of border with his paws, urine or some fur against a branch. He wanted any and all to know this was claimed land. It didn't matter to him who was queen or king, just as long as they were not overtly cruel to him, he was fine. He had liked Cara as Queen, but this Ptarmigan she couldn't be that bad could she. He continued on being the best he could.