Bearclaw Valley When my time comes around

Without a word, he turned and started moving, his broad frame cutting through the snow with an easy stride. He glanced over his shoulder once to make sure Tvar followed before setting his eyes forward again.
Damn coyotes, Cole muttered after a beat, his voice gruff. And rogues. Can't have ‘em gettin’ too comfortable near the borders.
As they approached the dead tree, its jagged edges already showed signs of his handiwork—sharp, splintered spires scattered nearby, their pointed ends gleaming faintly in the cold morning light. He motioned toward them with a flick of his muzzle.
Sharp enough to make ‘em think twice, he said simply, stepping closer to run a paw over one of the stakes. Figured we start placin’ these around the borders. Too many threats sniffin’ around lately. Gotta send a clear message.
Cole turned to Tvar, his eyes glinting with quiet confidence. You can give these soft ones to Towhee, he gestured to the other pile. Good for den reinforcement.