Bearclaw Valley a songbird and her cage

Tvar had been moving along one of the lesser-traveled paths of the valley, his usual patrol routine keeping him occupied. The quiet day offered little in the way of disturbance, though his sharp eyes and ears remained vigilant. It was the faint scent of the wolverine that drew his attention, the musk carried subtly on the wind, mingling with the more familiar smells of the valley.

He followed the trail without haste, his steps deliberate, curiosity pulling him forward. It wasn’t long before he caught another scent interwoven with the first—one of his packmates, though one he hadn't met just yet. He adjusted his course, tracking both trails now, the faintest trace of interest flickering in his expression.

When he came upon her, she was crouched low, her posture sharp and focused as she studied the snow ahead. The wolverine’s trail must have led her here. Tvar approached quietly but made no effort to conceal his presence, his broad frame stepping into view.

"Wolverine?" He questioned.