Phoenix Maplewood my buddies, they drink liquor; sometimes I'll go along

Being that he was a wolf and a top predator (even if something of a middling one), Kincaid was unused to being stalked. If he'd scented any wildcats in the area, he might've been more vigilant, but as it was, he had no notion of the creature trailing after him. His focus was to the east, and to the north and south where the pack wolves might be coming from. After all, he imagined they'd face him head-on if they wanted him to depart.

The turkeys were straying too close to the northern border, where Kincaid was reluctant to follow. He was hungry, but not hungry enough to risk moving any nearer to an active pack, even if it didn't seem to be an overly large one. Anyone might still be patrolling on that day, and there was every chance they might be a good deal bigger and stronger than him.

Cutting his losses, Kincaid turned away from the narrowing bottleneck and began trotting back the way he'd come, still without any idea of the company he now kept.