Otter Creek always

By the looks of it, Cuan guessed the antlers had belonged to some young, bull-headed elk buck. They were larger and more reindeer like than a deer, and had less branching twines. Still, the headpieces would offer little more than as a spooky story, the carcass of the buck haven been washed away or eaten many months ago. His pack was rather hungry, and hadn't made a kill in quite a bit. Wolves knew how to feed themselves when the times went rough, although they all grew a little thin about the waist. Besides, it was autumn. All of their prey would be in peak condition for rutting season.

The loner's scent reached Cuan's muzzle as he was about to set off, and he tilted his head around to see the white male padding up the creek bank, head low. It was a non-threatening sort of movement, and the scout gladly returned it with a dipping of his own chin. This stranger seemed rather gaunt under the stretch of his ivory pelt, as if he had been traveling for awhile and didn't have time to stop and recuperate.

It is, Cuan agreed, his sun flamed orbs returning to the antlers. One that would make for an interesting story on a dark evening, he added with a small grin. Although Cuan was a rather flighty creature, they were on neutral ground. And this snowy male seemed more interested in food than fight. Something Cuan wouldn't mind looking for, also.