Whitewater Gorge some girls hate their bodies

Disappeared. Ryzhov had not seen his Pakhan in quite some time, and his scent had faded from the lands. It had left him… lonely. It had left him abandoned. It left him seeking vengeance. Had he, perhaps, grabbed his bride and run for the hills to abandon his best friend who had never left?  He paced the gorge, trying to find some kind of purpose or meaning to it all. It simply was not fair.
 
His tail lashed side to side in irritation, his usually dour mood made quite worse by the latest in a disappointingly long string of betrayals, his own and those done to him abound all around him and in his head. He almost did not notice the scent of another, nose flaring as his eyes lifted to find a strangely confusing creature. “Who goes there?” He demanded, his thick Russian accent carrying over the distance between them, his stature building as his shoulders rolled back.