Stavanger Bay into the rushes

All welcome - set on the borders.

The cliffs were formidable, daunting in their dominance over the seaside and the two packs that resided there. Gluska did not believe it to be a suitable home for wolves, but he had appreciated the seclusion and mystery that surrounded Ankyra. It was certainly a home suited for the dark-furred Caiaphas, and possibly even Kaliska. The wraith of a male did not believe their ranks to be suitable for him, however. His nature did not reflect well on being treated like swine; Gluska relished in tricks and mayhem. He would, however, be required to stay close to his family. Their protection was of the utmost importance to the half-breed. He did not doubt for a second, though, that they were not capable women.

Trailing the edge of the nearest pack, Gluska trained his lengthy ears on the noises beyond their marked territory. His narrow muzzle was pointed towards the heart of their pack, nearly as secluded as Ankyra Sound had been. A firm frown had curled his inky lips downward. Sharp yellow eyes sought an edge to their lands, hoping that there was a strong line he would not be allowed to cross. Not that he cared too deeply about it; the sacredness of their lands was of very little concern to Gluska.

There was a sharp burst of wind that carried his ochre-tinged fur upwards and sprang goose-bumps on the flesh beneath his pelt. Curling his lip, Gluska lowered his skull towards the earth in hopes that he could escape the frigid air. His appearance cast the image of a hunkering savage, lurking on the edge of their land.