Qeya River things change, rearrange, or so do i

vultures followed food. and colt followed the river back to the pack's abandoned caches. 
there was enough here to feed he and the gang for a bit before they moved back to the forest. until the snow kept them where they were, he meant to range across the taiga like all of it was his own.
what halted briggs was the scent of blood — good fresh blood, or at least compared to carrion. he licked his jaws and set right in that direction at a lope.
he found a barking dog and a kill at the border. colt was familiar with dogs, he'd run enough with the canines in different gangs to be unperturbed by her non wolfness. what piqued him was her scarred and mutilated demeanour. he wanted what she had but he would not underestimate her. "they moved on," he said of the pack.
his red eyes did not leave her. he spat a stream of birch juice into the short grass.