Lost Creek Hollow I wanna be your friend, go shoppin’ in a Benz

He had been among the wolves of Riverclan for some days now, and kept mostly to himself. His interest in learning the terrain took up much of his time during the day; that, or he was busy hunting and fishing, so that he could pay-off his stay somehow.

While he lurked in wait for his next target, Mesa took notice of a foreign smell - then the approach of a ruddy body he did not recognize. His nape began to bristle and he slunk from his hunting blind at a focused prowl, watching the boy. Years of living alone and fending for himself kept Mesa well versed in stalking maneuvers - of prey, or of possible dangers.

He employed these now, until the last moment, in which case he charged to cut off the stranger's path and brandished a grimace of teeth as warning.