Shadewood Tight rope

Once things seemed relatively secure back at home (what a sweet, sweet word that was), Phox set his mind to the mission Niamh had given him. She had instructed him to gather information, but not to threaten or intimidate the other pack. It seemed odd to him that they would not want these wolves gone, but perhaps this was the more gentle route. He knew it was not the tactic Towhee would have employed. Or at least that was his belief. She seemed to want to rip Caiaphas apart when that altercation had happened, and she had damn near ripped him apart when he had merely woken her up from a nap.

Then again, she had every right to. He had been a piece of shit coward, and this was his penance. Being the lowest ranked wolf meant he would do whatever the Redhawks asked of him. Phox knew he had to earn a higher rank if he wished for one. It would not be handed out like candy on Halloween night. Snow had fallen the day before, and it crunched beneath his feet as he walked. The river crossing was a bit tricky, but he managed to find a spot that got him to the other side with relative ease.

Once there, he stopped on the bank, the thick smell of urine puncturing his nostrils. In the worst case scenario, the wolves who lived here would immediately be upon him with gnashing teeth and the hair on their backs raised. Phox was fully ready to run at the first sign of that. But if they were less confrontational, he hoped to gather some information from them.