Swiftcurrent Creek permanently fossilized

The last thing he ever wanted was to approach any claimed land. It had been months now of tracking his way across the wilderness hunting what small game he could find, chasing winter as it swept across the world. Hunting had gone well for a long while; so he had to wonder to himself what exactly had drawn him here, to the fringes of this place.

He drew a path through the wetlands first, descending upon the creek's outer limits from the southwest. Typically when the wanderer found the layered scents of other wolves he would turn back—but this time he remained reluctantly present, skirting the edge of the claim.

Did he mean to test the resolve of these wolves? Maybe. Life had become repetitive and empty and Mesa could use a little something to spice things up, now and again.