Swiftcurrent Creek survivor

Each morning had been cooler and cooler, and this past morning Dovev had woken several hours before daylight to enjoy the chilling air. It had been pitch black, and the beast wandered with only the faint glow of stars upon his ghostly pelt.

His lips were pulled over his enamel, tongue curling as the wolf let out a silent yawn. He stood in the brisk drawn, the wind blowing steadily across the floodplains. He shook out his thick coat in the breeze, his body parallel to the movement of the air and enjoying the rush of wind over his back. Blue eyes narrowing, Dovev scanned the grassy embankment of Swiftcurrent, content to watch the solitary bird wheel above the tall grasses in the pre-dawn glow.

The sun was growing stronger over the far east, and with the earth began to stir. His nostrils enflamed with the aroma of his newfounded pack, and Dovev slowly pivoted his neck to look over his haunches as a female approached the water. This ebony wolfling's arrival had not gone unnoticed within the ranks, and he had heard of her border meeting. Even her scent had been carried into the depths of the territory on the pelts of his packmates, which Dovev had scented curiously at in passing. The arctic creature's paws turned to point at her as he studied the female. Her pelt was scruffy and drawn, bright eyes catching the sunrays in their reflection as she bowed her head toward the creek. The older wolf padded in her direction, tail swinging slowly behind his flanks. The posture was noncommittal, and he held no assertiveness as his colorless pools wavered over her. She seemed to be soaking up the frosty current in the air as much as he. With a forward toss of his ears, he addressed her.
I don't think we've met.