Emberwood what a lovely masquerade

He'd not yet set eyes on the pups — entirely on purpose, and (in his opinion) to everyone's benefit. He'd mostly kept on the outskirts of the small family, subtly discouraging other loiters with his presence and his scent, and partaking in hunts often enough to keep himself and the other three adults (and however many pups) well fed.

It was comfortable enough. He'd healed, and his pelt was growing thick again. He'd regained a little weight.

The issue was that the reduced need to worry about his survival left plenty of room for thinking about other things. Other wolves.

One wolf in particular.

He thought of her now, even as he stood guard a good distance from the four white wolves. He imagined her slinking through the trees, trespassing on this unofficial claim. He imagined stopping her, as he had last time. He imagined the fight that would ensue —

He watched the small figures, taking them in from his place at the treeline. A mindless pang squeezed at his heart. He did not know the meaning of it.

cameo unless someone decides to harass him