Blackfeather Woods here on the nineteenth floor, the neon lights make me calm

Hello :)

It was true that perhaps he spent too much of his time patrolling around the borders, but he had little else to do. If he was not hunting, or speaking to another wolf of the Woods, he was patrolling. The days, he did not count - for it was difficult to tell the time that past, in the shadows that forever lurked at each tree and the fog that settled often among the forest, as the sky was masked. Hidden in the darkness of this midnight land. The moon would, occasionally, cast beams of light down among the wolves but still the looming blackness remained.

The stench of blood that heralded the borders as he approached reached his nostrils and he welcomed it freely, for he was very much used to the scent of decaying corpses by now. It was only some gore, after all. The howl that pierced the eerie silence caused the perking of his ears and the raise of his head as he began tracing it to the source - and it seemed, after all, that he was not too far.

Emerging from the shadowed trees he did come - muscular (perhaps unusally so for his age) ashen grey figure closing the distance in between he and the stranger, tail rising and expression solemnly serious. "What is your business here?" He inquired, focusing his stare on the inky, dark figure before him. It was true he was not the Dark Master, and he was not the highest of rank, but he would still treat outsiders as outsiders and this would not change.