Herbalists' Cache devil gonna take me

Catamaran had not ventured closer to the pack, but had cruised slowly along the outskirts. He was surprised, then, to run into a wolf on the wrong side of the "borders". The bounty hunter paused when Etienne came into view, his focus shifting to the stranger at once.

He stood there, shoulders tense and head dropped low. Was this the den father? The wind was not on his side.

"Peace be," he said, his voice low but carrying. He made himself look and sound deferential, aware that he was on the precipice of a potentially volatile interaction. "I only seek a place to overwinter."

He knew that he stank of lonesomeness, rather than the fresh perfume of happiness with the open road. It was a point of deep consternation for him, that his scent should give away something he was hardly able to grasp at in the sanctity of his own mind. He was lonely — but what did that mean? What benefit could interaction provide him, when other wolves were so often the source of his troubles?