Hushed Willows it's just be-bopulation

Although he was, admittedly, prone to wandering, Dusty Rose had stuck close to the territory since Reverie's litter was born. He was intrigued by the pups, even though or perhaps especially because he didn't have much to do with them. This led to a distant sort of possessiveness, and the coywolf's scent grew heavier on the borders as a direct result.

If he couldn't eat them — or, y'know, just play with them, in the way that he'd meant for them to play with the game hen — then he certainly didn't want any strangers cashing in on that sort of thing. He was jealous of the wolves who got to poke at them, but he couldn't bring himself to feel left out. His own mother, god rest her soul, would never have stood for a stranger's presence near the den. He'd been allowed extraordinarily close already, and he thought that'd been real nice of Reverie.

So, even though he sort of hoped contributing a little more that his usual efforts would win him a few more points, this was more daydream than scheme. He did not expect it would make much of a difference — and so he lay in wait, hoping to find an opportunity to prod at them himself.

Not today, though. Today, he trotted along the borders with a bundle of sticks in his mouth. Here and there, he paused to lift his leg on a rock or to scratch his signature into the dirt.