Sleepy Fox Hollow Wasn't enough.

Just for a moment, Anselm thought of nothing at all — there was a bliss to mindlessness, and he enjoyed it. 

He was brought back to reality by a scent in the wind not his own. Already, irritation rippled through him. His steps became deliberate as he cast his gaze about the wildwood, searching. 

A figure cast in shadow caught his attention. Anselm turned around to face them, ears cupped assertively forward and posture absolutely unwelcoming; in his eyes, the wolf lacked common sense to follow him after so recent a scent marking — did their nose not work?

A growl unfurled from his chest as he stepped forward, unwelcoming in every degree and unaware that presently, Etienne lurked nearby.