Whitefish River vonn, gently tucking unconscious guards into bed:

The day seemed to be flowing nicely, but the bug of change still sat beneath Dulce's skin. It gnawed at her from the inside, longing to be free; it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her urges under wraps. To occupy her thoughts, she wandered to the border to begin marking. It was still relatively early which meant that if she moved fast enough, she'd likely be able to get most of the way around the territory.

Halfway through her rounds, Dulce noticed an annoyingly large break in the pack's scent trail. Que perezosos, she murmured to herself as she folded herself into a squat and began an awkward pee waddle.