Bramblepoint of the end of the world,

Cole huffed, drawing in a long sniff to try to get his bearings, though he couldn’t make much sense of it. Don’t know tooth from claw right now, he admitted, a hint of amusement mixed with exasperation. There was a tangle of scents here, a bustle of wolves in the recent air, but he couldn't tell one trail from the next. Too many, too layered. Too many folk gatherin' for that hunt.

His gaze drifted to the way she dipped her muzzle into the bush, taking a branch of berries with practiced ease. She was at home here, no doubt about it. He felt like an outsider, stumbling through territory he couldn’t read, while she moved like she owned it—or like it welcomed her, at the very least.

If these berries belong to no one, I’ll just follow your lead, he said, nodding toward her, a touch more sure-footed now.