Bearclaw Valley saturn

@Aventus @Arielle

he departed from the goat littered hillside with little to show for it. down into a meadow where he found a few birds to tide over the worst of any hunger. it was a pitiful kind of existence, the best he knew.

until he smelled borders at the edge of the meadows where the land once more rose. there was always more potential in numbers. it provided safety, food and some semblance of order.

he offered a whooping call, more muddled by coyote instinct than wolf. then waited a few yards away from the most distinct markers.