Lost Creek Hollow The Wind In The Canyon

Sandulf had left the borders of Natigvik as his brother's found family had come into view. He had promised he would return, but he needed to check on something. He scented @Crowfeather upon the wind and as promised he went in search of the other wolf. He liked him, found him aggreable, wondered if this would be a good place for him, not overcasting his little brother's shadow.

As he walked and searched and learned. He found the pathways that the young Crowfeather had followed often intersecting, female by the smell of it, but he wasn't certain and he didn't really mind. He wouldn't mind meeting others as well as the crow.

It was upon such an excursion that he felt the peacefulness of a place, he had yet to traverse. The forest bright in the sunlight colors of autumn blowing in the breezes that whistled through the trees. Autumn. His father loved autumn, called all of them his autumn wolves, apparent by the colors of their pelts.  There were rivers and creeks. Rocky formations all around. It was breathtaking. 

He stopped upon the edges of the border, their scent heavy here, and though he knew it was not claimed quite yet. His dark friend had said he would and with this Sandulf simply settled to his haunches and waited. He could be patient.