Secluded Spring Virtigo

Time: January 9th, Morning
Location: Secluded Spring, 1 mile away from pack border.
Temp: 4'C-8'C

He was heading north again – though he didn’t know why. An urge had tugged him to follow the waterway north since the night he had stumbled upon the creek a few days ago. It was as if he had overpassed something of importance but could not tell or guess of what it may be. It nagged at him, like the way the trees rustled in the wind restlessly and never ending on a windy day. He had to know what was out there for one simple reason: It bothered him.

Torin kept his gait quick and long, his legs travelling beneath him with power and endurance. He had traveled for months now, and the endurance he could encumber was growing larger each and every day. His body was used to the constant moving that his mind fought with distaste and confusion. It was a foreign concept to be on one’s own for this long and to be traveling into unknown territories too. Perhaps the smell of a pack would finally cross his senses for he had not stumbled upon any small inclination there were any in the area. This was incredibly odd. Life was abundant here, even in the chilly months of winter. Plenty of water, small game and trails of deer had crossed his paths in the last few days. But where were the packs?

The brute continued on his travels, following the lazy creek for hours as his mind mulled over what might lie ahead or what he had learned from days past. The scent of wolves passing had caught his nose a few times today, but the aroma was far from fresh and was old and faded. Company ached in his heart with a sore and throb at the faint reminder of fellow canines.

Growing weary from a long distance of travel Torrin decided to bank off the trail to catch his breath and rest his limbs. What lay ahead, whatever it was, would probably still be there with only a short minutes break. Letting his paws guide him, Torrin leapt up a small embankment towards a large dead tree. This is where he’d sit for a moment’s time out of the whistling winds reaches, alone as per usual.

It was peaceful where they had chosen – the northern parts of Relic Lore were not explored as much as the heart, leaving Ruiko to be grateful for the solitude. While a small pack, the Tainn was bothered little by their numbers thus far; he was certain they would grow, and come breeding season he believed Aeylen would bear a healthy litter.

The cold winter wind flipped the golden pelt of the Leader, causing a light shiver to course his spine. He had never been one to love the coldest season of the year, not for its declining temperatures but for the hardships it wrought. Spring would come upon them before they knew it, though, and with it their pack land would shape into scenery they had yet to witness. It was his silent worry and hope that his companions would approve, and that the Creek would continue to offer them the resources they needed.

With his muzzle to the ground, Ruiko trailed his borders, pushing himself from the ground to lean on a tree, his heavy paws swiping at the bark every few meters. The scent of the Creek pack was becoming far more dominant, and Ruiko eased himself with the notion. Prowling forward, the Leader trailed from his pack borders, now moving closer towards the Springs. As moments passed, the tawny male came across a recent scent of an unfamiliar wolf. Blinking, his own lip curling momentarily in curiosity to who had wandered so far through the Ghastly Woods, the Tainn male soon came across the rogue. His eyes studied the grey male, noting how young the wolf appeared. He was a large creature though, his size reminding the Leader of Triell.