Duskfire Glacier doing it by my lonesome.

Since she had run off, Ezrah had kept an eye out for the frightened, mute girl he had protected from the black-pelted woman. He hadn’t changed his intentions—he had merely added her to the list of companions he hoped to find. Otherwise, he focused on finding a life for himself in these Wilds. It was time.

His paws had lead him North, through woods and plains and mountainsides. He’d come across few of his own kind, but he’d been lucky in his hunting. He took no pleasure in scavenging like a common fox, but Ezrah was not so prideful that he would sacrifice his own strength by passing up a meal found. He’d followed the raucous cawing of crows to find the half-eaten deer carcass, the pair of coyotes feasting upon it easily run off. He’d eaten his fill and set off again, satisfied in body if not in his mind.

That had been four days ago, and while Ezrah’s belly didn’t ache with hunger pain, he knew it would soon come. But luck had blessed him again with the scent trail of his own kind, or perhaps trails would be more accurate. More than one meant pack, so he had followed to find himself there upon the borders. Ezrah spent some time inspecting the area, familiarizing himself with these wolves. There seemed nothing amiss and—being the easy going fellow he was—shortly tilted back his head and called for attention.