Ouroboros Spine trouble come knockin'

@Lorroakan

he walks. one black paw after another, waltzing the length of the spine's tallest ridge. a black blob of content upon the horizon. head lowered amongst his chest and shoulders as he goes, inhaling the scents.

the wolves of moonglow had offered him harbor. he will return their graciousness with labor. lending his duties as a guardian to their borders. he goes little into the main village, reserved from the others. hiding away from social callings like a hermit.

it's just his nature.

now, his attention is called elsewhere. a noise in the brush, then a scent smacking him in the nose with enough force to shrivel his senses. there comes a thunderous growl and then he is lunging himself through the wintery brush, throwing violent paws into the chest of the stranger wolf—scent not of moonglow or any surrounding allies—to send him tumbling into the dust.

he hovers over him like a grim shadow. what are you doing here? the question is more a snarl than any words. speak.