Jade Fern Grove with every lonely, aching step

Slowly, he was getting his scent to permeate the boundaries of the Grove. It hung in the trees, where tufts of his fur lay. It danced about the bushes where he scratched himself.

It was in the ground by now. This was to be a home, for him.

Now he just needed to fill it. With both prey and others.

So he set out to do one or the other that fine morning, loping through the grove he was coming to learn rather well, paws rhythmically thudding against the grove floor as he roamed towards the borders.