Whitefish River well, what'd'ya know?

There was a river, and he followed it. Simple, right? He didn't really want to think too hard on it because if he did that, it wouldn't be fun anymore. Right now all that mattered was finding food and shelter. He smelt pack here. It was something Ma always told him about with wolves. Wolves roamed in big numbers. Pops had been like that until he met his mate. Then it was blissful matrimony. 

Ah, bliss.

As he came toward the border, Dorian sent up a call. An audience was required to proceed. He'd find out what this pack was about. He'd find out what packs were about here eventually - might as well figure it out sooner than later! "Hey, hey, hey!" he barks, thin tail wagging at the approaching figure. Having been raised outside of wolf-society normalcy, he didn't know how to submit. Unless the other person snapped at him, he wouldn't stop wagging his tail and looking grossly happy.

What a nerd.