Slay was still on the mend, and feeling good enough to go for a walk on all fours. Corvus Vendetta had been careful not to inflict any grievous wounds, choosing instead to slash him to ribbons just so that he would
look awful enough to worry his packmates, and lose enough blood to be dizzy and short of breath for weeks. It had been a stinging, humiliating experience, and not one he intended to repeat. Every chance he got to leave the church and try and exercise, he stole it quickly, wholly uncomfortable with the thought of having a family he could not protect.
Today the black-marked arctic wolf padded along the borders, nose to the ground as his tail swayed loosely behind him. The scent trails were all too faint; he could never find Corvus this way, and he still didn't have his full strength to fight even if he did. He was just highly upset with the dangers lurking beyond their borders, especially at the bold crow-wolf who had no respect for pack authority. With his single-minded search, he had tuned out the gentle scents of summer approaching, the blooming flowers that their territory was famous for, and indeed, a trespasser. A flash of white caught his ice-pale eyes, and he immediately snapped his head up, on guard.
The stranger was a white wolf with glinting red eyes, walking carefully on the far side of their scent borders. A Phoenix Valley wolf, then, nothing to worry about, he dismissed as his wet nose defined the aroma. Relaxed, the Lupus padded along the edge of his territory, drawing nearer to the snowy fur that smelt of herbs. "Flay...? Naw, you're a guy, sorry about that. What brings you to our borders, stranger?" His deep voice rumbled pleasantly as he called out.
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
