Redsand Canyon They're throwing bottles at your house.

Hunger and rage drove the shewolf forward, crossing the shallow water at the bottom of the canyon. Not only had she been unable to taste the shewolf dumb enough to sleep with her Donovan, she had been forced to walk away to preserve her pack. 
It was a lot more work than she had signed up for, all these packs touching shoulders with each other. Before, she had to contend with two or three at most, and they had all either been like minded or fearful of Bloodbourne. It made her pelt itch with the ammount of disrespect she had been shown as of late. 
A scent, or rather a mix of scents, crossed her. Interesting. This wasn't one of the ones that had run them out of the bleeding forest. Nor was it the one who the shewolf she had taught a lesson to came from. Perhaps there was a chance to prove herself to Donovan. 

She followed the trail, eventually finding its owner, and gave a bark of greeting. 
"You're tresspassing." She spoke calmly, sizing the other wolf up. He looked like a fighter, and it gave her satisfaction that whatever pack they were from might actually be useful for once.