Blackfoot Forest Wanderin'

The bite of the cold air was sharp against Cole’s muzzle, but it wasn’t enough to deter his steps. His amber eyes scanned the snow-draped woods as he moved, the rhythm of his gait steady but purposeful. He was hunting for signs—not for prey, but for presence. The faintest trace of another soul.

The wind shifted, and with it came the thick, unmistakable scent of a male. It was strong, recent, carrying with it the weight of distance traveled and dominance etched into every step.

Cole paused, his breath misting around him as his nose twitched. His ears tilted forward, and his muscles coiled slightly as his gaze swept the woods ahead.

With deliberate movements, he adjusted his course, heading toward the source of the scent with the cautious intent of a wolf unafraid of confrontation, but wise enough to anticipate it.