There had been that feeling of anxiety within him for the past week or so, and yet its origins and reasons for existence had yet to be discovered. The one-eyed idiot had searched every corner, every nook and cranny of his mind trying to figure out what he was dreading, what he was worrying so much about that he couldn't possibly identify. He had been quieter than usual as of late in result, often finding ways of busying himself instead of sitting around musing and feeling the awful emotion in his stomach. It was like something was clawing at him, telling him to be careful. Be on the alert. Something was coming, it screamed. Jefferson just didn't know what the hell it was.
Walks and meandering the borders had become tradition since. The feeling of restlessness made it hard to stay in one place, and on the side of that, the pack was still a small one and needed the extra security anyway. He was too protective of his members, of his lands, of the safety of his loved ones. The brute may not have ever admitted it, but those that ended up in his pack became a part of the family he'd never had--or didn't remember having, since there was plenty of that old family running around, a majority of which was unknown to him still. So when he came across the dark-furred wolfess at their borders, he paused immediately and took defiant steps in her direction. No limp, that day. Two strong legs, one arm, and one eye. That was Jefferson. "Who're you?" he started crossly. "What do you want here?"