Lion Head Mesa No remorse for the helpless one

He is near the borders, just outside the pack.

The mesa was impressive upon closer inspection.

The yearling’s stormy figure prowled the exterior of the pack, gold tint eyes tracing the mighty rocks that shaped the pack. Had he remained in Riverclan and listened to the word of his father, Stormchaser might have approached more tentatively. There were scents that wafted from within the marked borders that were both alluring and foreign enough to give pause.

Instead of calling, the young wolf continued his nosing along the edges of their claim. They had a number of wolves and their borders smelled of frequent patrols. How long would he wait before one of their parties found him prowling?