Alpine Lake Red Crossroads.

Dorus was rather adept at getting himself across the lines of potential enemies; it wasn’t a matter of stealth but one that related to his uncaring, unflinching nature. So what if other wolves roused themselves together for an attack? One bite against his dark hide and they would be infected, one spit in their direction had the ability to affect the rest of their lives… forever. And thus, with this bravery, the lanky, limping male pressed forward with his shadow tall in the lingering sun. Of course, the point of travelling was to meet those wolves hungry for the chance to chase the tail of some foreign intruder-- but perhaps fate had other plans.

The winds had changed, and upon those gentle breezes Dorus’s wet nose was teased with the scents of many travelling together against the low-lying brush of the Hinterland’s trails. A single wag of a bone tipped tail accompanied a trill of excitement bubbling within his feverish throat-- was it a pack that could be splintered apart by his mere words? Would there need to be a demonstration of sorts, a razzling huff of his rancid breath into the muzzle of some pinned down bitch!? With elation as those treacherous coils of wind flew his own scent back, changing as fast as the tides, Dorus kept those mangled ears high and that long muzzle trained upon the smell of potential victims. 

“We’re gonna’ see how fast unity buckles...”