Bitterroot Valley Exit, Pursued by a Bruised Ego

for @Sega ! no rush to this at all, just thought i'd get it up since i'm eager to write, lel

Barrett had been awake for an hour or so before the sun had finally risen to kiss the sky, spilling its' red, gold hues into the darkness that was night. He moved from the clearing back towards his den, where Band-Chief had called for an early morning hunt, so that the man may prove himself. The faint scent of elk rode the winds already, travelling from the plains and filtering into the valley, where he was sure that the other Great Sky wolves would also sense it. Leader being amongst them.
So the outlaw stood by his den. Licked at his paws, his claws, grooming himself in the most instinctual of ways. Stretched his muscles out, leaning forwards, pressed to the ground, as he once did so long ago. Memories dripped through his mind, akin to faint watercolour, painted in long strokes against paperskin, illustrating all that was a life left behind. He thought to the notion of a wife, or a family, and still, found that he was uncertain—uncertain in his empty loyalties, or in his want for such a thing.
He was glad to have something else that he could focus his energy, his will unto. His hunger, mostly sated from the day prior, was not the driving force behind this hunt, but rather, the thought of hunting beside a leader, a brother, and making a place that was his own. A gang that would love him again. His brothers. His sisters.
Wary, still. But growing familiar.