the great unknown

Not really sure where my thread in OS is going, so I left this pretty vague. <3

<style>.gaunt1 .ooc {font-style:italic; color:#494a43; } .gaunt1 p {padding: 0px 9px; margin:0px; text-indent:25px; } .gaunt1 b {color:#f8f8f8; letter-spacing:-.1px; } .gaunt1 {background-color:#000000; background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/gExQrZb.png'); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; } .gaunt1 .float {float:right; width:0px; height:10px; } .gaunt1 .text {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#4c4c4c; letter-spacing:.1px; word-spacing:.1px; line-height:18px; width:580px; text-align:justify; padding: 20px 20px 330px 20px; } .gaunt1-border {width:620px; margin:0 auto; }</style>

The wound that had been festering on his hock had healed. Thanks to the assistance and patience from Caiaphas, the ashen brute was returning to his daily rituals. The male’s mentality had since found its way back to the roots where it had begun. Biting winds and the waning hours in the day seemed to carry a formidable sign of winter. It would not take long before snow would cover the Teekon wilderness and turn wolves into monsters. Of course, Kierkegaard was prepared for the worst of it. He had witnessed truly awful things in the span of his travels, and though he found himself skeptical about the honor of other wolves, he would have no choice but to cooperate.
Since having found that his leg would allow him to hunt once more, the pale ghost had spent a great deal of his time filling miscellaneous caches. With the weather still opening up to allow sunlight, as well as a surprising lack of snow on the ground, Kierkegaard found that it was far more useful to hunt than it was to roam around Ouroboros Spine. He had found himself growing fond of the territories that surrounded the pack, but the gypsy inside of him longed for an open road once more. He still thought about leaving it all behind.
Trotting along the riverside – a hare clasped tightly in his jaws – the male slowed his gait to a slow lope. Sharp orange-gold eyes trailed the edges of the water in search of a point where he could perch and fish without having to endure too much of the frigid liquid. It would not be long before he would be forced to abandon the fish and strike out in search of land mammals. Already, frost would linger on the edges of the river in a desperate attempt to remain relevant. The sun would eradicate it for several hours before darkness fell and the frost moved forward, providing a sure sign that the seasons were changing rapidly. Had it not been for the peculiar sound that stretched over the natural ambience around him, Kierkegaard would not have stopped.
Whimpering struck his long ears and the gruff creature stopped in his tracks, brows narrowed firmly on his skull. There was no sign of a full-grown wolf in the vicinity, and the tone of voice seemed to suggest that the creature was quite small. There was a moment in which the vagabond considered moving forward and returning home. His sharp eyes roamed effortlessly until he locked them on a small figure near the edge of the river.
Curiosity struck the creature first. With lengthy strides, Kierkegaard moved in the direction of the inky pup. When he had closed a majority of the distance between them, he lowered his skull towards the earth and huffed a deep breath through his nostrils. The pup smelled of a pack – though he cared very little for which one – and was quite young to be traveling on her own. Again, he considered leaving the creature there or providing a service in relieving the helpless thing of its life so that it would not have to endure the hardships any longer. But his caches were almost full and he had a fresh hare in his jaws. Dropping his catch to the dirt, the ghostly Sairensu male chuffed at the pup to check for signs of response. If the dark youngling was defective, deformed, or incapable in any way, he would leave it to the cold.