the things you can't have

@FitzDutiful :)

Never before had the boy stumbled upon another pack. He was exploring the mountain that stood not far from Stavanger Bay, when he noticed the markings of another wolf on its border. Charon, at the age of five months, was now about as tall as an adult wolf, but his awkward proportions and lean frame betrayed that he was still very much a pup. He stopped when he came upon the clear scent of another wolf, a wolf who had claimed these lands as their own. He instinctively knew better than to cross such a border; it’d be like another stranger crossing Thistle’s markings in Stavanger Bay. Trespassing was a serious offence.

The boy lingered near the borders, walking back and forth while he sniffed up various places with stronger and less strong markings. He had never met this wolf who’d marked these borders, he was pretty sure, and Charon did not know what was custom at another’s borders. Did you just wait to see if another wolf would approach, or call? Or was either of those two options rude and should he just turn around and leave? Standing in doubt, Charon stared up at the mountain, which intrigued him even more now that he knew he couldn’t access it.