Two Rivers Isle invisible string

His hunt took him closer to other wolves than he and Ingiullik typically strayed. The scents were thick here, but not so aged that Winterbourne thought he might pass into a claim. He assumed these wolves to hold a position not dissimilar from his own; wanderers in search of a home for the spring. For their family.

His ears twitched at the sound of tiny footsteps across foliage somewhere at his back — but his mind never truly left his wife, or the children she surely carried now. So when the sharp musk of wolf-scent reached him on the breeze, stronger than ever now, he reluctantly turned away from the opportunity in favor of ensuring the security of his small family. Best to make nice with the neighbors before they found a reason to get pissy.

Or to find out now about the potential threat.

His path took him to a lake, and the silver wolf reclined beside it. Winterbourne chuffed his greeting, stopping to drink some distance away. His gaze flitted back to the woman every few seconds, watchful. But he would let her have the first word.