Ayti had checked the fine print and there was nothing in it that said he wasn’t allowed to be outside the Driftwood Surge borders. It had been a week or so, and really he had just pretended things were normal. He would circle around the borders, guarding them, and would even leave prey he had caught laying on the scent lines. It was what he was doing now, actually - a fat little marmot was carefully placed half-in and half-out of the territory.
He limped on his stiff shoulder, fully aware that it wasn’t healing right, and had to take a break to sit just a few wolflengths away from Driftwood Surge’s border, his back and shoulders heaving with the effort of simply carrying himself at the moment.
But he had to keep them safe. It was all he had done for a year now, and... and he adored them all too much to quit. He might even live the rest of his life just like this. It wasn’t happy or ideal or anything, but... well, the wolves he cared about were safer with him there. Even with his shoulder so damaged and infected. He was formidable and he knew it.
But he needed to rest.