Wapun Meadow oh aberdeen, you've been calling to me

His lips pursed—skirting around the vague edges of the bear valley and noting the rising scents that lay within. It would be a pack—the calico-furred man coming to mind, and he considered the reasons why the man had not admitted his intentions.

The gentlest of flurries settled about him—his thoughts drifting to what had once been the foolish notion of peace among the packs of the valley. An alliance between a trio—and now a fourth—

—given everything that had occurred… it felt corrupted, now. Tainted.

His gaze flitted to the direction of the three other packs now—from the meadow, they certainly seemed close together, and he held a moment of gratitude that the creek rest away from them.

Of course, that hadn’t protected the swiftcurrent creek wolves from seeming to entertain drama first among those of the valley.

Dusk settled upon the valley like a blanket—and while soon he would turn home to his comrades, for now, he felt a certain anticipation—as if once more, there was a change upon the wind… and it wasn’t necessarily one for the better.