Moonspear call me a thief

It had been a few hours since Hydra had led Frøya away from Big Salmon Lake and accepted her into Moonspear territory. The dark furred female had spent a short time exploring, scenting out the numerous paths that weaved their way through the vast mountain range. She would get time to properly explore them at a later time, but for now, with dusk swiftly approaching with the setting sun Frøya had set her mind to digging out a private den for herself. 

Being the newest member of the large pack, she felt uneasy sleeping amongst the others having not yet had the time to properly introduce herself to each of them. So she wandered part way down the mountain slopes into the Netherwoods, the shadowy woodlands which edged onto the rockier heights of the mountain. 

Loping between the maze of tall conifer trees, her long legs brushed confidently through the carpet of ferns, moss and tangle of creeping vines as she sought out a suitable den site. The scent of another creature in the breeze caught her attention suddenly, and her nose quickly guided her to the secluded entrance of a small fox den. A hole had been dug down between the roots of two neighbouring conifer trees, their overlapping roots and closely positioned trunks providing ample shelter and protection from the elements. Frøya crept closer, sniffing the small fox den with interest. 

Poking her head into the dark entrance of the den, she attempted to determine if the den was still inhabited. A growl rumbled up from the gloom, causing the dark wolf step back, lift her head, and prick her ears up in surprise. It seemed that the fox would need to be evicted before Frøya could steal the den for herself.