Willow Ridge Steel Skies - Printable Version

Blackmoore had spent most of the time on the borders of the willow ridge as of late. After all, it had been the height of the unpleasant coyote business, and nobody could say for sure when it would end. Or who would come around the borders seeking refuge from the scourge. Hence why the dark male have been more active here than anywhere else in the pack. Going as far as beyond the borders to keep a close tab on the moves of the vermin. Sometimes he'd would get lucky and find a single scoundrel scouting up the borders, thus focused towards the willow ridge. The dark male have tried to use that to his advantage multiple times, but so far no cigar. He was a tad too big for this game it seemed. At best he'd would end up with a tuft of fur between his chops but otherwise he was successful only in that he'd managed to disrupt any attempts at scouting out the borders by the smaller 'cousins'... If one could call them like that, taking in the fact that so far it seemed like an attempt on a hostile take-over.

That however have been only part of the truth why the male had been here so much as of late. After all, the birthing of pups had sent ripples that had affected him as well. In the male's case however, harboring a particular interest in one of the freshly anointed mothers meant quite an emotional ride. And Blackmoore felt best at dealing with the facts alone. Trying to figure out what could have been done. Besides, it would be simply unbecoming of him to try to nose himself in right now, which he'd could inevitably do if he'd tried to spent his days close to the dens. As they say, curiosity is a first step to hell. While the male have been the one that was supposedly entirely respectable... At least to a point, as his desires could lead him towards quite a war somewhere down the road - though that have not been known to him yet. Though maybe he'd would already suspect it, knowing that nothing comes for free and without struggle.

After all, that's what the life have taught him so far...

Failing to find any fresh tracks near the borders of the willow ridge, the male have eventually decided to direct himself back towards the pack that have so graciously invited him. It had been the male's second patrol of the day, as he'd set out once before well before the sun have rose up. As for now, the sun have been up for a good while, starting to fall towards the horizon on the west - marking the fact it had been definitely past noon by now. Thus air had time to warm up by the sun, speaking volumes about the intensity of the upcoming spring. Fortunately it had been quite cloudy today, giving some respite from the suns ardor. Despite that, Blackmoore had been somewhat weary by the time he'd crossed the borders back into the willow ridge.

The male have directed his steady trot towards the center of the pack and one of it's streams.

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She’d been relieved of babysitting duty by Ravenna, who had stepped out to stretch her legs and do her business. Parting with a kiss to Ragnar and Freyja’s crowns and a nudge to the matriarch’s cheek, she began to make her way to one of the streams for a drink. As she made her way, she scented another on the breeze. Her honeyed-amber gaze looked around curiously, searching for the presence of the male. She knew of him of course and had seen him in passing, but had not had any formal meetings with him. He’d joined when she had been in an emotional turmoil, after the loss of her brother and her father. She hadn’t been willing to socialize with almost anyone, much less make the effort she had before the unfortunate series of events to interact with new members.

Yet, with the arrival of the Ridge’s newest members she’d told herself that she needed to try and get back to some resemblance of who she’d been before. She could never be that girl again, for that girl was much too innocent to hardship, but she could perhaps take a lesson or two from her resilience. The large form of the male came into view and she let out a bark of greeting, meandering down to the stream’s edge.

It wasn't long till the man had injected himself right back into the hustle bustle of the pack life. For the most part however, nobody seemed to take notice of him too much - probably thinking he's in a sauerkraut mood perhaps, most likely judging from his tired expression. That changed however as the man reached the stream and was about to take a dip from it to soothe the needs of the throat. Surprised, the man had first turned then raised his head from the stream, letting some of the water pour down on his throat despite not doing it in a particular rush. A smaller female, which haven't particularly been known to the male had called out to him, as she'd directed her steps towards him along the creek.

The man didn't want to appear impolite, Blackmoore however had - for the most part - been quite a silent fellow. Perhaps uncharacteristically for a wolf of his size, the man seemed to have quite an deaf ear towards anything that involved loud noises or howls - unless there was no avoiding those - he preferred not to involve himself in those sheniganians too much. So instead of barking out a greeting, the man dipped his head first before quickly taking another sip of cold water from the creek as the dark colored female was still a few leaps away from him. By the time she'd reached him, the man would be most likely done for a moment, ready to give her a soft well mannered smile to go along with simple. "Greetings."