Even for a wolf with good eyesight the broken forest was difficult to maneuver through. A frown was cut deep into his dark features as he scrambled over the fallen giants, brows furrowed in determination. He was surprised he had not stumbled upon the forest graveyard before, especially with all the exploring he had been doing since bunking with the Edge wolves. His internal map was growing, pictures being neatly organized into the scrapbook in his mind. His claws cracked against the caramel bark as he hoisted himself onto a higher log, a soft oof! escaping him as his chest collided with the wood once he reached the top. It did not wipe the cheeky grin from his face as his mismatched gaze swept over the forest, searching for the grey shape he’d grown familiar with over the last few weeks.

Unfortunately he couldn’t spot Pumpkin Eyes (@Hawthorne) among all the mocha-coloured trees. Instead he caught a flash of scarlet fur, flattened against the top of a log. Huh. He squinted, his lips curving into a small frown. Why did she look so familiar? Y’good? He called out, curiosity lacing his words as they tumbled off his tongue. She did not look very coordinated atop the mess of fallen trees…