Bonesplinter Ravine In the hands of the puppet master, strings weave tales of destiny

he hadn't the chance to turn and wander up the ravine. not before a new scent clung to him like a foul taste on his mouth. 

being around only his brothers for so long, being in the presence of strangers was new and far too unsettling. 

warily, he shifted his focus toward where the scent had come from. edging near with caution, he took a closer sniff, doing his best to guage who this might be—and even more important, who else might be near.