Kintla Flatlands The voices inside my head, I hate them.

So that was its name. Silvertip Mountain. It seemed fitting, in hindsight. What little of the mountain he had seen through the canopies had always been snowcapped, and the shadow it cast was long into the proceeding valley. Out there though, it was well behind him. Mordecai nodded to his first query all the same though, because in a way he had been close to the territory. “I've been close to it, but not that close. I know better.” He had never been the headstrong type to just disregard where territories were likely to be. Mordecai may have followed footsteps into the Wilds, but he had branched off from them before they converged anywhere remotely like a border. And at times, the wind had been in his favor. Either way, it was simply not worth the ire when he had no reason to come marching up to their broad mark.

“And I have met some from your pack. Your leader for one, I believe.“ While he had never learned Jinx's name, he was certain that his sparring partner from the woods had been none other than a leader. The commanding air about her had been much more than the male before him. The others he couldn't say much about. There had been the equally dark-coated male that had gone headlong into the water some days ago, and more recently he had begun to think the yearling that had tried to accost him in another nearby forest was from there. But Mordecai would not assume that were the case, as they could have easily come into contact with the Silvertip wolves long after he had.