Ouroboros Spine first to rise

As the brown bear patrolled, he came across a stray bone, laced in the scent of a coyote who had drug it from some carcass (or so he assumed). A low growl rumbled in his throat, an instinctual response to the smaller predator. Not many wolves were content to allow a coyote among them, least of all the territorial and aggressive Tartok wolf. They were smaller than wolves but as a family unit they could take the prey the pack depended on, like deer, and were unapologetic raiders of caches and fresh kills. None of which was tolerable.

It was not a particularly fresh bone, but nor was it so old that Kodiak had no interest in seeing where it had come from. Had the coyote scent been fresher he would have tracked it to see where it had went, to hunt it down and kill it, but it was at least a day old and it would take too much of his time to follow its trail. There would be another opportunity, but for now he traced its path backwards, seeking the source of the bone.

What he found was an unmistakeable bone pile, an assortment of bones ranging from fresh to many seasons old that were stacked high. It was a rather odd feature, and he stepped carefully upon the bones at the base of the pile, nosing around, a cross wind making him oblivious to his packmate scaling the other side, and her to him. Just as the brown bear tilted his muzzle back to call to any nearby packmates, his ears were greeted by the howl of the pale female in a simultaneous moment that caused the briefest of confusion.

His head whipped around, catching her form atop the pile, and he grinned. That she was already here reminded of his previous home, where the dutiful Tartok were always scouring their grounds and a fellow packmate was never far. He chuffed to her from where he stood, his tail waving.