Heron Lake Plateau Let's give this bad boy a test run.

He was warming to the place, despite at first having reservations. It was large and flat and, although places at times could be waterlogged and nearly impossible to traverse, it was a great source of food. And did they ever need it. The pair had spent a majority of their time making something of a border, Redshank spending extra time on his multiple claw marks on the few trees that surrounded the lake — they needed to be extra deep, just to show that they weren't to be messed with (and also give the illusion that there were more than just a couple of members here if their scents alone didn't already give that away).

He had been heading back towards the central lake before he too noticed the distant but large group arriving at the borders. Their borders. With a growl, the boy descended a small hill and began to head in their direction before a certain screeching voice caught his attention. His pace suddenly broke into an all out sprint.

A thick smell permeated the air, and he eyed the wolves who reeked of a similar pack scent as he loped towards them. His tail flipped over his back, a (foolish) confidence he hadn't felt in a long time taking ahold as he came to a stop beside Screech. They were vastly outnumbered, injured, and partially starved — but also completely stubborn. This land was theirs. With his usual narrow-eyed glare, the boy gave a sweep of the interlopers before focusing on the one Screech addressed. "Y'know these fools?" he questioned in a low voice, turning slightly to his friend, though continued side-eyeing the dark female.