set a couple weeks following Rowan's arrival to GH
Something was afoot...
He had searched the whole forest. The whole damn forest, every last cedar. It had taken him two weeks to canvas the area piece by piece, stick his nose in every dirty pit and wet crevace, and there was no sign of Maksim - nor any other pack - anywhere.
The Baranski himself had told him, once long before when he had come upon the borders of Willow Ridge, that Cut Rock River - the pack he lead - resided within this forest. And Rook had said to him that Maksim was still around, not too long ago when he'd first set food in the lands of Grizzly Hollow. How was it then that these wolves disappeared without a trace?
Well, the traces were there. He'd scoured the flat rocks himself, followed the shallow river among the rolling hills and even discovered a den probable enough to have once belonged to a pack, or perhaps just the breeding pair. But it was free of any scents. No parent nor child had been there this spring.
His gut twisted to recall the last time such a thing had happened, a flood that erased his family and his den and his pack land as if they'd never even been there at all. But that could not have happened here... the river which gave Maksim's pack their name was not even close to the roaring rapids which had lulled him to sleep as a boy.
Two things became urgent to the Attaya male - one, that his plans had changed. Rowan still intended to speak to Maksim, but the swarthy male was no longer a neighbor to whom a visit would be easy to procure; and two, that the impression that Cut Rock River existed within this forest was a long expired notion, which needed to be known. By one wolf, in particular.
"Rook," Rowan barked with no shortage of urgency as he loped toward the den where he might be. "I need to speak with you."