Bearclaw Valley My mind won’t let me rest

Disoriented. Confused. Hurt. All of these are things he finds in himself. He awoke just a solid ten miles or so south of here. He made a conscious decision to head towards the ridges that make up Bearclaw Valley. A place he doesn’t even know exists. A place he doesn’t even know holds a pack of vicious wolves better known as wild animals than anything civil. 

It’s pouring rain. In some places the earth is so sodden that he sinks down into it with his massive weight. He’s slow, weak, and tired. All his energy drained from him he trudges on. Pelt soaked through and his pale eyes stuck in the path just ahead of him. He’s in a mission going no where. 

Until he makes it into the territory closer to the Valley. He cannot smell anything due to the heavy rain, but that doesn’t stop him from seeing the very clear signs of a taken territory. Muddy paw prints of all different sizes litter the ground. Signs of other dog like animals linger here. He’d call for them. Ask for a place to stay for a while. Or maybe just long enough to gather his energy. Or perhaps they’ll kill him on the spot. Who knows.

He halts, not daring to go any further. Tilting his head back he gives a distinctly dog-like howl — short and deep. Calling for any who would answer.