Whitefish River between two points

Well, it seemed that neither of them had any idea who they had been on the verge of meeting. Or dealing with. Mordecai gave one last look in the direction the dark-haired wolf had gone, but the wonder therein ceased to end. It was at that point where he found introductions coming along and turned his gaze back to the grayscale fellow. The playful bow brought a faint smile to his face for a moment; Mordecai had seldom been asked who he was. Instead the question had been what are your plans, and it had been that way for quite a while now.

“Mordecai,” he simply stated. His surname would hold no prideful weight here. While there were many Ostrega's scattered about the world as he knew it, Mordecai had not encountered any of them living wild or in control in the Wilds. “And as far as I can tell, I don't think we'd have to worry about intruding out here. So far the only place I've pegged for a pack is a nearby mountain range.” He gestured in the general direction from whence he had come. Other than that, he hadn't really been in the region long enough to ascertain what packs had formed in its diverse span.