Shadewood Oh who am I, M.I.M.E I'm not the one you wanna f**k wit

Children were being born left right and center. The scent of blood, birthing, and new life wafted around within the trees of Shadewood. Not that Kovertol cared much, that was for the worried of the guardians and fathers undoubtedly giving the night-clad brute a glare that promised death despite the disadvantage every time he wandered by on his own patrol.
 Did he get thanks from Fathers? No! Well, except Cry. Not even when his scent prevents those felines and scavenging pests. 

The beast rose up and furiously rubbed his back against a rough-barked tree he didn't care for the name of. He needed to rid himself of his winter coat. The sharp ends tickled his skin when he moved and wads came off in his sleep, causing him to be awoken with sneezing. Besides, it was warm enough. The weather came and went but overall it was warming up, he was sheltered by the trees and he still had his den.