Blackfeather Woods finger deep within the borderline

Couldn't resist having the birds bother Mordecai here, though he's being nosy and investigating this pack too. Open for anyone, set nearish sort of to their borders.

It was the cacophony of crows that had drawn him in from afar. That much ruckus signified something, though how or why he had missed it before was ultimately beyond him. Yet the closer he had drawn towards the darkening woodland, the more aware that it was claimed struck him. Among those scent markers, he found something familiar, something significant. But recollection did not come to him — there wasn't enough to pick from his downwind locale to tell him much about the pack that resided there.

Mordecai didn't come in too close to their borders though, instead lingering on the fringes. Something about that forest gave him an off feeling and for the time being, he chalked it up to the crows that carried on. One of which had taken a particular interest in him, swooping in to harass him with a hateful cry. The first couple of swipes he dodged with a bit of gamey, playful attitude, but it became clear that it was upset with his idling there. And so he let it know he didn't appreciate it, unleashing a series of barks whenever the glossy avian swooped in. It did deter it, but for how long it would last he didn't know.

Why were the birds up in arms here, today, of all places?

tool — stinkfist