Duskfire Glacier i'll tear you limb by limb, darling

Malachi nosed the empty cache, the stale scent of prey the only sign it had once been full. For two weeks now their hunts had run dry. Though they'd set out in good spirits, large game had evaded them and they'd returned tired, worn, and empty pawed. The stress of these failures was only one weight on the Alpha's mind. The days had dawned dark on Duskfire, and he longed for the light again, one that didn't seem to come with the growing hours of sunlight cast upon the land.

It was when he pulled away that he first heard the noise: a shuffling sound of creatures moving, and the muffled breath of whispered voices. He thought for a moment the voices to be that of his packmates, but when their deep vibrations fully registered he felt a cool rush and Malachi snapped his head in the direction from which they drifted. The voices were that of men - and the only men of Duskfire were he and Raphael. Malachi's lip twitched and he broke from his duty, abandoning the empty cache and setting his paws to intercept the wolves who blatantly trespassed upon their home.

But when he saw their silhouettes through the trees, he slowed in apprehension, and when their scent came to him on the Glacier air, Malachi drew to a halt. Their scent was nothing he had ever tasted before, foreign and strange, yet mingled with blood and something he did recognize. It took him a moment, but when understanding dawned on the young leader, Malachi narrowed his eyes and judged his next action with greater care. "Do you realize you're trespassing?" He questioned from where he stood. They carried the scent of Tuwawi's collar, a sharp and uncomfortable smell that spoke only of danger.