Bearclaw Valley on the nights you feel outnumbered

One aspect of this landscape he had not returned to, despite the nagging sensation in the back of his molasses-slow mind, was the border. The territory fringe should not have concerned him - and he convinced himself it was not worth investigating - merely because the valley was surrounded on almost all sides with jagged hills, and he presumed the wolves of the lowland were not hardy enough to scale Merrick's ring of fire. Inevitably his study of the terrain would draw him towards the valley's lowest point, and then out — or close enough.

He let himself be drawn to the valley's mouth, telling himself it was smart to double-back and canvas the area again; he hadn't done so since his arrival to the area, and it was wise for a guardian to know the lay of the land. At the back of his mind he heard Hydra's voice commanding him to pick up the pace; some childhood sense-memory returning to him as he hiked. He made a point to slow his pace instead, as if doing so might psychically return some control to Revui which he had been lacking of late.

As the man came upon the strong pack-scent that lined the borders, he stopped. He looked around. For as far as his eyes could see, there was green; some patchy snow, a thin ghost-like figure drifting, clusters of trees — wait. Revui's attention shot back to where the pale thing was roaming and he surged forth after it, not exactly curious so much as territorial; he did not recognize the sharply built woman at all, even as he closed the distance.