Carrion paced onto the scene with a clatter of bones. He was behind an outcropping when he heard the two talking, and decided to try not to get involved. If this was a private conversation, he didn't want to intrude- so he went along with his job. He had a large bundle of bleached skulls hung from leather straps in one paw- skulls of wolves, coyotes, deer, even a bear skull. His other hand held a bundle of wooden poles over his shoulder, and a mallet was tied to his belt. He was helping mark the packland's lines, as something to do while he was out on patrol duty.
He stopped about fifty feet away, protected from sight by a few trees, and dug one of the poles into the ground. This gave him an opportunity to eavesdrop on the pair as he worked- placing an old, crackd wolf skull on the pole and tying it on with the length of leather thong he'd carried it in on. The coyote perked an ear toward the log. So they were talking about their lineage... he sighed softly to himself. He had no family here. He'd left his family behind without a second thought in New York.
Not that they were much of a family anyway.
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