Porcupine Ridge pass the vodka

Romulus realised he hadn't really met any of his packmates yet; it wasn't really his fault given the fact that he had literally only been there for a few days and he had been busy working his ass off for the pack, trying to show the leaders that despite his 'terrible, arrogant and vain' first impression — which he did not technically regret doing but had to keep being submissive for the time being to prevent himself from being kicked out of the pack, butt first — he was a good pack wolf and he understood how things worked around here. For now, Rom was content with sitting around in the bottom of the ranks and working; in time, perhaps, when he gained his packmates trust, he would aim to accelerate and challenge.

But for now.....Romulus sighed, licking his right paw, like a cat and rubbing his forehead with it. Bi-colored eyes gleamed with unreadable emotion and as Rom loped forward, tongue hanging out languidly, tail held quite low as he was quite low in the ranks but the tip still wagged merrily, as if excited to do something. Truthfully, though, the yearling was going to somewhere that was not at all interesting. He was going to patrol the borders, lay his scent on the ground and show he was one of the Porcupiners or whatever they called themselves.

Boring stuff. But it couldn't be helped.

Arriving at the borders, Rom straightened, ears pricking, eyes sharp, nose twitching to catch the scents in the air. Finding nothing dangerous, the Roman lifted a hind leg and marked a bush before continuing on again, wishing internally for some company, even if it was some untalkative, submission-demanding wolf like the tawny Farstep. But then again, the second reason why he came was because there had to be some other wolves patrolling; it had appeared to be a strong pack to Rom's eyes, they better prove him right.