Sun Mote Copse double cheeseburger, hold the onion

the sun had begun it's descent in the horizon, golden, honeyed glare giving way to the sugary glow of moonlight; gradually. savaktuk wrapped up his patrol with a roll of his shoulders and a last, affirmative sweep of magma gaze over the neutral territory of the bog or swamp or whatever it was because marzanna is too lazy to look it up. sensing nothing to cause worry he is about to head to a cache when a series of howls rises. the first couple rounds he ignores, knowing they are not for him. the last one to pierce the air of the copse, however, clumps him into the rest of the others and he makes his way to the origin of the howl with the obedience of a soldier. he slips into the gathering, staying closer to the edge still having that self imposed 'outsider' feeling, if only because he was not a terribly social creature and thus far he's only met bronco, towhee and meerkat.