It smelled like...shit.

The stink was overwhelming, that much was certain, but for the life of him he couldn't deduce any logical reason pertaining to why a pack wolf would expend so much effort dirtying up their borders. Mirren stood in quiet thought and racked his brain, his golden eyes studying an unfamiliar paw print molded in what was now drying mud. His brows drew together, one raising with distaste as a fly buzzed past his ear to land on the filth of old urine, sticky on the surface of a dying plant; the plant obviously couldn't withstand the sheer volume of hatred and waste that had been delt to it.

He'd been gone for the majority of the winter, and upon his return it was clear that everything had changed. Secret Woodlands was not what it had once been, and was now teetering on the edge of ruin, thanks to that geriatric bastard and his traitorous wench. It was a shame, really ─ he'd really liked Iopah. Upon crossing the scene before him, he'd immediately considered Koda as the perpetrator, but Mirren was sure the old man ─ as dull as he was ─ wasn't stupid enough to come within two days of his pack, not after what he'd done. Yes, he was surely far away from here. One of his cronies, then? Well...Mirren couldn't fathom that Koda had even a single follower. No one who had half a brain would pledge their allegiance to someone to whom allegiance meant nothing. That {which he held to be fact} coupled with the carnival of other and additional scents told only that this fucking mess had nothing to do with the Renier. But what other enemies to the pack existed?