Redhawk Caldera not enough to go around

Jaws was about to embark on a mission he had never carried out before. As a nomadic lone wolf, he had seldom ever 'marked' anything - he never had anything he wished to say was his; but Redhawk Caldera had become his home now. Though it was his duty as a candidate warden to ensure the security of the borders, it was also something he wanted to do, having grown protective of the land, his new lifestyle, and even his packmates. But the first step in defending the borders was to make sure there were borders to defend, and so that afternoon he set out to refresh the markers.

The coywolf drank generously from the neighboring lake to the south and started his trek at an easy lope, moving clockwise along the pack's border. His first mark he made on a tree, raising a limber leg to its trunk and letting a long stream soak the bark. Further down, he found a boulder and darkened its complexion with more scent. But on the third mark - another tree - Jaws found that his steady flow had become a mere trickle that, even with a couple shakes, could not get the job done.

Jaws furrowed his brows as he stared at the tree. His grayjay, who had been flying along with him, landed on his head and looked at the tree too, tilting its head one way and then the other. It chirped as if to say, 'why are you staring at nothing?'. Nothing indeed; in his inexperience, Jaws had used up all his 'ammo' on the first two targets.