Hushed Willows panacea

The scent here was different than it had been barely a week ago; the smattering of faerie marks along the borders had been occassional, at best, while now they were almost entirely nonexistant. Days old, too, by the stale scent along what had once been their borders, though he would cover that now with a mark of his own. While the male did not officially claim these lands, he would still sporadically mark them as theirs, if only to warn outsiders of their close proximity to the Watch.

There is also another scent, one that sets dull alarms off in his head, one of a predator that stalked alone, striking wolves when they least expected it. Fjallaljón. It was something he would need to alert his kin to, though he delved deep into forest now, instead on the trail of another wolf, one that had been laid fresh sometime recently. He wondered, idly, if this wolf knew of the threat that lingered outside of the willow's reach.

He found her eventually, too, though he did not yet announce himself, instead watching as she drifted about the abandoned territory.