Backdated to 7/24 for timeline reasons
Midday, the sun was shining bright and warm, and there was not the slightest breeze to be felt. Not exactly the perfect day to be a black wolf. Drestig was in his usual fine mood though, as he made his way through the territory, having just crossed the border after a small scouting trip out into the land. A trip that had proved itself worth the effort, as he had come across a little drove of snow shoe hare. The fattest - and slowest - was now dangling from his jaws.
His steps were swift despite the heat, and there was determination yet in his fiery eyes, he was heading for the center of the land, where the old oak that had given the pack its name stood proud, its crown full and green now in the height of summer. When he arrived, he lowered himself down on the lush grass growing in its shade, dropping the bloody prize on the grass before him and licking his lips. His ears twitched as he looked around in the clearing, wondering where the rest of the pack might be on this fine day. Resting his gaze for a while in direction of the den, he pondered whether the puppies were asleep in its cool depths, or perhaps their mother had taken them for a short trip into the forest? Secretly, he hoped neither was the case, the hare was intended for them.
"speech"