Heron Lake Plateau got a touch like a thorn

The thinning wolf’s pace slowed at the scent of the marked borders. Drool pooled in his mouth as it cupped the fattened grouse, his teeth holding the prize in a way that did not allow his fangs to penetrate flesh—if he tasted the blood, it was likely the hungry wolf would not be able to stop a feeding frenzy.
 
Scrappy, defiant—a runaway from his youth, Pippin was perhaps the last wolf this pack would ever need to join their packs. But he needed them, and it was a tough pill to swallow for the renegade who had lived his life as a loner since puphood. His golden tail lashed in the air as he tried to calm his nerves, and releasing the gift he had brought for whomever those that lived her deemed it worthy for, the Ostrega tipped his scarred muzzle back, releasing a beckoning cry for someone to meet him at their borders.
 
His song died within moments, and so he stood rigidly still, his form lowered in predation for whoever was to come. The cold winter wind whipped past the angular rogue, his eyes scanning the lands before him as he waited for a verdict.

Towhee didn't hear the howl, though she had watched his approach from the cliffs above and began to descend toward the borderline even as his snout pointed skyward. Her orange eyes assessed him as she approached, noting that he looked a lot thinner than the last time they'd met, which had also been the first time.

"Did you thunder smash that?" she asked, pointing at the dead grouse.

He was met by the same she-wolf he had come upon during his last visit along the Hinterlands, and his piercing eyes studied her, though he gave no sway to what emotion might have held him in that moment. It was hard to forgot the unique patterns of the girl before him--and how laid back she seemed to be, which, if he was honest, was what had encouraged him in the end to return.

Looking down to the offering, he felt his lips curl up in a boyish smirk before he lifted his wolfish brows, his cream snout tipping up toward her. "That was your specialty. And a pretty smooth move," he complimented lightly, the rumble of his unused voicebox likely lost on her, though he hadn't figured that part out yet.

"I'm Pippin. I was wondering if you guys had room for another here?"

She made no reply to his remark, though she shifted her weight as he introduced himself. Had they really forgotten to exchange names the last time? "Towhee," she interjected right before he announced that he was here to join the Redhawks ranks.

"We could use an able body. Yours is looking kind of..." She gestured at his visible ribs. "But clearly you can hunt." Now Towhee glanced at the grouse, then back up at him. "What's your story, Pip?"

Lanky, thin and scraggly, Pippin withheld a snort at her observation of the current shape he was in. Instead, he bent his muzzle down, rolling the grouse in her direction as offering. It was almost painful, giving such a delicious morsel away, but the golden wolf could only hope he could withhold the drool that pooled in his mouth at the smell of its blood once more.

Pulling back, the Ostrega’s ears flicked forward, and he blinked at her, considering her question of his history.

He could have told her how he had watched the Alpha of his birth pack attack his mother with the intent to kill her—and so he had retaliated by going after her son who happened to be in his path. He could have also told her how quickly the mother wolf had turned on him, and how he had barely escaped her fevered rage. He had never seen his family after that, never knew what had happened to them.

He didn’t know when he had stopped missing them, either.

Seemed a bit much—and a bit personal.

“I got separated from my family before I was an adult, and have drifted ever since. I’ve never really joined a pack since then… So I hope I’m not doing this wrong. But I figured it was time to...find somewhere to belong."

"I appreciate the gesture," Towhee said when he tried to nudge the dead bird toward her, "but you need this a hell of a lot more than I do." She pointedly kicked it back toward him, then did her own version of listening as he gave a brief life story.

"Normally, I wouldn't really take pity on someone like you," she said bluntly, "but you coined the term 'thunder smash' and, quite frankly, we could use you... once you got back into shape, I mean." The Beta shifted her weight, a contemplative expression taking over her face.

"Tell you what: I'll let you in, with a couple of conditions. First, you put some meat on your bones. When you've done that, repay us by hunting double what you took from our caches. From there, just do your best to contribute. If that sounds like a fair deal, Pip, you're welcome to join the Redhawks."