As Craw had taught him, Wraith waited at the edge of the Willow Ridge pack's territory and howled out for his friend. For a loner, Wraith still looked in remarkably good shape for the middle of Winter. He knew he had the pale-furred male to thank for that; Craw had been going on multiple hunting trips with him whenever Wraith wasn't exploring the surrounding territories. Already, he had a pretty good handle of the areas around the pack territory and had certainly mastered where the pack boundaries were.
While he waited, Wraith watched his breath billow from his mouth like fog on the mountains. A rough night plagued by nightmares left a hollowed look in his yellow eyes, but all hints of grief and exhaustion slid away when he heard approaching paw falls. Recognizing the sound of Craw's gait, Wraith stood, tail wagging. The dark wolf stretched out his legs and woofed a soft greeting before he nibbled at Craw's muzzle and chin.
"You're slow this morning," he teased. "Too early for you?"
Perhaps he had woken earlier than usual. The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon, painting the sky with muted pink and orange clouds. Still, earlier was better for hunting in Wraith's opinion. The prey weren't always awake enough themselves to pay attention enough to escape the hungry jaws of a predator.