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Mapplethorpe
He was comfortable in his position, accepting of the fact that he sat beneath Chulyin in rank and physique--one he could change the he had no choice-- and wandered his home with a new batch of herbs in his jaws. Since summer he had picked up his foraging and took to roaming just outside of the pack border to find rare plants before he would return home, hoping that nothing was amiss and eventually the stench of Sagacity would grow stronger. He'd noticed the faintness, wondered if perhaps she'd grown sick with illness or wandered off on a scout mission toward the far out reaches of the land; he only hoped that eventually she would return. Without Saga, Couth was but a clumsy and insecure wolf who had little talent besides his ability to heal through herbs, and he felt he hardly deserved the rank as third but he would not complain. Below him sat a new subordinate he was indifferent toward, the first wolf to join their pack since his acceptance and he felt a sigh of relief wash over him; there would be less tension between the remaining males.
At least that was his logic and he believed it strongly as he approached the border of his home and stopped only once the scent of his leader crossed his nostrils. He had seen little of his leader since his acceptance beside the informal meetings at the cache or near the watering pool, otherwise he had stayed to himself and gave his leaders the space they needed to run the pack. Today happened to be the off chance that he would encounter the alpha male. He clenched his herbs in his jaws, feeling the wet his tongue, as he approached Mapplethorpe with caution, checking to make sure his posture was submissive and his eyes averted. "Hello sir," he spoke, ears pressed against his skull as he waited for the male's response.