Northstar Vale cut your hair and shave your beard

he's trespassing (and probably gonna be a giant dick to everyone), so anything goes except death, loss of a limb/sense, & anything that would give him facial scars

There is a cold fire in his heart, as stinging and eye-watering as that which had driven him from Helios. It burns relentlessly, icy and scathing and sapping all of the warmth from his body, and it leaves room for nothing else. He is hollow and cold and consumed by pale blue flame, lost and bleeding the last of his life from the place where he feels only emptiness in his chest. He has nothing, nothing except the festering wounds on his pads and his leg, and now he knows that he is nothing.
He might think himself a ghost already, but he knows dead wolves feel no hunger. It is this hunger that drives him toward the pack's borders, and it is the chill in his heart that drives him beyond. If he is not dead already, perhaps he will be soon. His heart quickens at the thought, and he starts to feel the way he had at Swiftcurrent Creek, that same giddy, half-panicked half-joyful feeling, the one that had left him feeling faint and itchy-pawed and a little sick to his stomach. They could kill me, he thinks, they could rip my throat out and I'd never get up, and he doesn't know if that is his greatest desire or his greatest fear. He doesn't care enough to know. He's hungry, and he's made his decision — and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that maybe... well, maybe he doesn't care at all whether he lives or dies, now that Helios is gone. Maybe it doesn't matter anymore. So he just keeps walking, skin crawling with the anticipation of death, or food, or whatever he will find here.