The Heartwood Why does thou weep upon my grave

Dreven wandered and marked throughout the territory. Jealously guarding the borders from any and all usurpers that would make their way to their hold. Red Eyes gazing. Staring. Boring. For any sign, any sign that he could meet with violence.

Though there is death and decay in the barren trees of the wood. Deep down there is also life, green and prey and everything is abundant. They will make a good home here.

A howl is loosed across the grand expanse. Requesting him, certainly. One last snort of air, and a paw scrape across the ground. He turns and lopes in that direction. Brown foot paws, tearing up the ground. Each stride long and confident. The Saga has called for him. She needs him, and she is not one to be left waiting.

He arrives, to see the thin petite thing wrapped in vulpe white. It shows up starkly against her brown dappled fur. Red eyes meet pale and he smiles with rows of sharp teeth.

Hello, Saga. You called for me?