Qeya River rhodonite

As winter’s oppressive fist began to close upon the riverlands, Gideon found it hard to sleep. His fur had yet to completely bloom into a plush winter coat and he was not familiar enough with his packmates to huddle with them for warmth. When the cold bit into his backbone and snaked down between his ribs, there was nothing for it but to get up and get moving.

He followed the same route as always, beginning from the foothills where former denizens had dug numerous dens. He first went northwest into the quiet wind, watching each billowing breath as it was whisked away over his own brow. At the edge of the territory, as he had every night, he stood for several long seconds with his gaze fixed upon the star-speckled horizon into which his father, Sun Eater, and Ksura had vanished.

Gideon then followed the border to the south, feeling his muscles grow more limber as he jogged along. Ordinarily, he would go as far as the marsh before looping back around, only today something was different. Today there was an unfamiliar smell. He lowered his muzzle and brushed his nose and whiskers along the river rocks to confirm it. This was not a Saatsine wolf.

Gideon began to follow the trail, lengthening his stride into a smooth run, and soon enough he found the fellow barreling ahead. Hey! he shouted breathlessly at the backside of the intruder, tails whisking uneasily. Stop right there!