Bearclaw Valley for a moment the gunslinger merely stood inside the door

Skoll could hardly keep track of who was in Ursus and who wasn't, now. So many came and so many left that it became hard for the man to keep track of who was living and who was dead, who was here and who wasn't. Counting the members each day to make sure all of them were alive - really, it was something that might have built up after the battle with Easthollow, and the meeting with the Saints. Skoll didn't feel like going to war anymore, didn't feel like having to wait until members of their pack were slowly picked off by others. Running into a wolf he had not seen before was not part of the plan of the morning. It wasn't. And yet here he was deadpan staring someone he'd never seen but still vaguely smelled like Ursus. 

Perhaps following around another member of the pack was distasteful, but Skoll tailed the other wolf idly until he would notice him. Perhaps he other wolf wouldn't even notice him at all. Skoll could care less either way - it didn't seem like the other wolf was doing much anyway.