Swiftcurrent Creek i'll be the outlaw, bounty on my head; you be my shelter, a safe place to rest

@Constantine @Durnehviir

The scent of urine and scat drew him near. The black wolf sniffed curiously and cautiously at a scent-soaked rock as his ears twisted to listen around him. He smelled the stone itself; the squirrel that had scampered across it; the bird that had shit on it; and the wolves who had laid clam to it. The marks were strong — fresh. He tread carefully along the territory's edge, tail low and ears skimmed back, inspecting more marks, sussing what knowledge he could from them. Then, satisfied with what he knew, he retreated a comfortable distance. He took a long look at his surroundings, for any figures that might have seen him, and seeing none, lifted his broad snout skyward and howled. He called for no one; he only projected a long, carrying note that said I'm here.