ROOK LYALL
October 2nd; Early Afternoon; Sunny; 47 ° F, 8 ° C
Without any pressing matters or certain plans in mind, Rook Lyall was a meandering soul. Having clearly marked Grizzly Hollow's border's just hours before there was a rare opportunity for him to explore the lands just beyond his domain. With a careful step he slipped through the familiar evergreens and into the company of those whose bark patterns were both foreign and unmarked. He was just going to explore for a little bit. Just for a while... Not short enough as to be considered early to come back to the den or other haunts he kept but only just long enough for his family to almost miss him.
The tail which had once been held so high lowered into a more neutral stance and his head came down as he sampled the ground for any scents that might have been misplaced within the forest. Rogue wolf or prey or otherwise, he was mindful to make note of all that he surveyed. The stale musk of the moose that had come by several weeks ago, the zig-zagging path of a passing hare, the fragrant traces of ripening acorns that had been collected from places beyond the woodland...
He continued for sometime, pausing here and there to relish the places where the sun shone brightly through the boughs overhead and warmed the darker patches of his mottled agouti coat. It wasn't until he thought he had come upon a familiar note - one that was young, just about his age, full of scent-markers that told of his travels into the wilderness beyond - that his steps lilted to a stop. His head came up and his bearish ears cupped forward. A scowl graced his masked face; the man seemed familiar but he couldn't be sure unless he saw him first...