He'd been tracking something, someone, for nearly a quarter hour now. The scent was that of a male and a pup, two he didn't know personally. The wolfdog had been tracing the borders when he'd come across a slight hint of it, and ever since, he'd been following them. Apparently, he didn't just do that to his mate, Fia...
He had his reasons for 'stalking' his packmates on occasion. Sometimes to meet them and sometimes to make sure they weren't up to no good. Most of the time, though, it was out of boredom. The pack life he lived was a lazy one, with no need to constantly hunt and travel. He had so little to worry about now that he'd contented himself with tracking things at random or snuggling up with Fia beside the fireplace. He'd grown just a touch lazy, though he kept up with his training and practicing.
The pair he'd been tracking was a gold-and-black furred old man and apparently his grand-daughter. Their names were as of yet unknown to the much, much younger 'stalker', but he didn't much care anyway. Instead, he kept at a distance, memorizing their scents for later recognition.
Eventually, he grew bored of tracking them. As he usually did at that point, he leapt up and ran to catch up, barking out a quiet 'hello', as not to wake the pup.
That was the last thing he wanted to do. Pups were dangerous, crafty creatures with a habit of asking far too many questions.
"You look tired. Would you like a hand, sir?" As long as the child didn't wake up fully, he'd be fine. He'd even carry her if the old man asked it. Gunnar was a rogue at heart, but he knew better than to say no to an elder, especially one with gray around the muzzle; that usually meant they had years and years of experience and tales, which meant plenty of chances to learn something new.