Hushed Willows everyone wants the same thing

The willows were not far from the intended claim, closer than Kigipigak had roamed in days passed though, and he felt safe enough to do so without the scrutiny of Stjornuati or his brothers. He needed to stretch his legs and, as agreed, would not venture deep in to the valley nor too far from the Watch; in this particular instance Kigipigak was following a winding trail that bifurcated partway down the mountainside, leading towards the abandoned willow forest.

The wolf scents had all but vanished among their tendrils. Kigipigak thought of what the sad woman had said to him and Stjornuati, something about gay faeries, which urged him to investigate; yet upon finding the way beyond the supposed claim limits, Kigipigak could find nothing to suggest a tribe had settled there. Perhaps once, long ago—there were very old and ruinous pits that could have been caches, now turned to frosted mud holes. At least one potential den from what Kigipigak could discern (not that he had ever used one, he recalled his mother's precious hideaway with some fondness).

The eventual conclusion Kigipigak reached was simple: this place was empty. At least until a decidedly fresh scent found its way through a gap in the trees and drew like a banner down a narrow hill; he paused upon finding this scent, then followed it, unafraid of what he might find. As Kigipigak drew alongside a series of older willows and in their shade sat a wolf he did not know. After assessing the stranger from afar Kigipigak chuffed a greeting and languidly began to close the distance.