Wapun Meadow quick silver

Thanks for hopping in, you two!

It wasn’t long before not one, but two other wolves seemed to appear from meadow behind him. Keeping his gaze trained on the lumbering figure ahead of them, Kierkegaard anticipated that he would have to pay these others no mind at all. The thought of an aggravated bear was enough; he assumed that they would react to the potential danger with caution. Both of the pack wolves moved to position themselves behind the ashen male. He turned his head just slightly so that he could judge their location in comparison with his own before focusing back on the prowling predator at his front. The creature was moving slowly, with a sort of clumsy power behind her limbs, and still had yet to pick up the scent of the three wolves in the meadow. Kierkegaard knew that it was a matter of time before the aroma became too overwhelming, or one of the wolves behind him opened their mouths. The female seemed to remain silent, hunkering herself down to keep out of sight. The silver male who had appeared, however, seemed to think it was a pleasant time for a conversation. You gonna let her go? Kierkegaard turned his head to face the newcomer with a look of – almost – disbelief. His eyes flashed towards the stranger and he drew his lip over his canines, baring his fangs. Surely this strange male could not have meant the bear. If he did, then Kierke could anticipate that the silver-colored pack wolf was not only foolish, but borderline idiotic. “I have no quarrel with the bear,” Kierkegaard snapped at him, his voice echoing in his chest with a resonating baritone. His patience was wearing thin. He had very little to begin with. Kierke’s gaze darted towards the female and paused. The longer she remained silent, the higher her chances were of avoiding the lumbering predator at their front.