Mudminnow River so far away

Cole moved quietly through the thinning snow, his large frame blending with the stark landscape. The sound of water nearby pulled his attention, a rarity in the frozen grip of winter, and his steady steps adjusted toward it. He was scouting, a duty that often left his thoughts wandering, though his sharp eyes remained alert.

When he reached the edge of the clearing, his gaze landed on the stranger. A wolf, sturdy and scarred, stood at the river’s edge, his posture heavy with something unspoken. The furrowed brow and pinched expression were enough to make Cole pause. The air between them was thick with unspoken weight.

Cole tilted his head slightly, his amber gaze sweeping over the other male. He gave a soft chuff to announce his presence before speaking, his tone calm but firm.

You lost?

There was no hostility in his voice, but no warmth either. Cole stood tall, his ears flicking to catch any response. This stranger might have been passing through, but it was his job to know who crossed near Bearclaw Valley’s reach—and whether they posed a threat.