[J] Worn out places, worn out faces
i am not happy with this post whatsoever.... but um, hiiii c:

Louka was afraid. It had been a few months since the tragedy had struck his home and family, but the memory still stung him constantly. Now, he approached the territory of a strange pack, and a large one, according to the scents flowing toward him upon the autumn breeze. The slender male stopped a few paces away from the invisible borders, well marked by the pack leadership. There he stood, his broad shoulders slumped, ears held low.

Being that the population of this pack was so significant, Louka could not help but worry that he would be found by beasts intolerant of his presence so near to their home, and torn to shreds. It was a morbid thought, his mind foggy and dark with exhaustion. But the pale wolfdog knew he must seek acceptance; he did not have the strength nor the heart of a loner.

Louka took a deep breath. Then, he tilted his muzzle toward the evening sky and announced his presence with a deep mellow howl.
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The borders did not go unwatched for very long, especially now that others were taking up these duties. Linden thought Mara favored her travels and so did not mind assuming his role doubly, though Mistral frequented these places as often as not. Once she was confident on a horse they'd cover far more ground faster—he was often thinking of ways to improve their work.

Gunther carried him along well enough, moving at a casual pace while Linden kept himself busy with thinking. He was equally eager and hesitant about the upcoming winter, for while food would be easier to find the cold had a way of making one miserable. This, he supposed, was universal. Even with all their fur and the warmth it gave, sometimes the bitter winds cut right through a man.

A howl rose from nearby, and Linden responded with his own. Then, urging his horse into a canter, he approached.

It was a wolfdog he found, one that looked a little like Skoll. Linden slowed as he approached, well aware that the towering warhorse and his own appearance might make for an intimidating sight. Still, the man was tall even if he was skinny, even if he held himself poorly.

Greetings, the wolf called. You're at the borders of Cour des Miracles; my name is Linden, he gave freely, and smiled. What might we do for you?

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