Otter Creek be Bob Ross and paint me a picture

wintersbane loops his patrol past the northeastern borders of blackfeather woods, with it's blood stains and the sickly sweet smell of decay. he sidesteps a decaying corpse as he makes his way into the creek's territory. it's not apart of the wood's claim but it and all the neutral territories that touch the dark woods are often times included in his personal patrols. scouting for prey more oft than not. he doesn't often find wolves this close to the dark wood without reason, though those new to the wilds might innocently find themselves tempting their luck ...and sometimes they willingly seek out the woods. sometimes, they seek to join.

what he does not find often is a wolf standing near the banks of the creek looking utterly confused. dazed, perhaps. nevertheless wholly uncertain. the tundrian's guard is up ( when is it not? ) as he approached, steps purposeful and cautious as glacial gaze assess the agouti colored man before him. the delta's chin rises upon his approach. "are you lost?" there is no accusation in the soturi's tone. it is a simple question, born out of curiosity and a desire for an answer. they are not close enough to blackfeather's borders that wintersbane perceives him as an immediate threat but still they are in a territory that touches it and wintersbane is territorial and protective to the point that neutral territory touching claimed lands is close enough.