The Heartwood forget you, and you, and you

His tail gave an idle flick—his eyes scouring the barren lands before him. New growth would come, he was sure—but in his many travels, he hadn’t seen such wreckage before. His brief pause only gave him a moment to consider, and soon the agouti wolf was slipping through the Heartwood, nose crinkling in mild distaste to the state.

Only when the breeze drifted past him with the scent of something more than stale ash did his gaze sharply glance around, catching view of something golden flashing through the trees.

Bristling, he wasn’t sure what the antics of the other were—but the Ostrega was anything but trusting. He was about to call out to the other when a sharp bark rang out, the potential that the stranger wasn't playing cat and mouse with Pippin now becoming more plausible. "Marco," he tested the waters, his voice lifting in the still woods.

Only then did he notice the white she-wolf that had slunk out from... where? Where really had she come from? He tensed, his muzzle lifting as his nose tested the air.