Hideaway Strath If it wasn't for bad luck...

Hey! I’m so sorry I was hella busy. Thank you so much for putting out this thread! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) The Saints have so much crazy shit goin on rn haha!

The brindled male trots about their new little play area — their new home. Hideaway Strath isn’t his beloved Canyon of Red, but he could make this his new home. Even now he doesn’t understand why he cherished the canyon so. The crimson dust that would constantly get in his eyes and stick to his coat, and the hardly existent prey. It truly isn’t a nice place, but damn is it beautiful in the summer and the crystal clear pools of water were to die for. Almost literally.

Though now as his sand roughened paws touch the softness of grass and his star-like orbs dance around his surroundings he might just be able to get used to it. Especially having such a large area to cover, this valley gives them both an advantage and disadvantage. Though when he finds the right hiding spots and uncovers the secrets this place holds then — and only then — will this expanse of land become a jewel, an advantage.

As he pads through he recognizes one of many scents that do not belong to his pack. Even their two newest he recognizes, yet this one he does not. So he continues on, head lowered to keep on the scent trail as he briskly trots towards where it becomes stronger.

Then when he hits the large river that courses through the western half of their territory he finds the source of this sweet, distinctly feminine smell. His eyes dance along the glistening water as he shoots them every which way, struggling to find them. Though by now the other wolf would have most likely seen him for he doesn’t see her until he gets a bit closer. Only when his eyes squint and he halts in his tracks does it become apparent that he does. 

It’s another wolf. A pure black one at that. Such a stunning coat, no breaks in color, it is as if she is one with the night. So as he stops and takes in the shimmering of her beautiful blue eyes he offers a loose smile. “Evening, dear.” He calls out. “Who might you be?” Comes his casual inquiry.