Lost Creek Hollow Golden Slumbers

feel free to assume he has trespassed!

He stirred shortly after nightfall. Stars appeared, dotting the sky above the treeline, their constellations vibrant and vigilant on a night so dark and quiet. The temperature had dropped, bringing with it a quiet haze in the silence. Skáld rose to his feet and without shaking the snow out of his curly pelt, he moved. His breath curled around him like a halo as he walked through the night. The white boar turned and watched for him, beckoning him with its large, round eyes. He didn't hesitate when the stone circle disappeared from sight, though he had never left the pack's territory before. 

He collapsed gently into a snowbank not long before dawn when commanded to rest. He curled up, his tailtip covering his muzzle and face, his breaths soft but steady. On beyond the rising of the sun he slept, his body tired from a full night of sleepwalking from within the borders of his home pack, and into the lands of another.