The dark beast strode confidently through the cedarwood forest, pawsteps slow and head held high as his bright yellow eyes scanned between the red trees for any sign of other wolves. It had taken some effort to pinpoint Oula's territory after following her tracks from the blackberry fields. At first he'd thought she and her family resided in the thicket to the north, but an investigation of the surrounding area yielded none of her scent there. Which he was thankful for, as the close-cropped mess of brambles wasn't something he was keen on navigating. He was quite confident that among these cedars lay the home of the Whitebark woman, finding tinges of her scent scattered about.
Balthazar settled himself comfortably at the borders, resting his haunches against the snowy ground and leaning his shoulder casually against the trunk of a tree. He had decided against howling for someone. Wolves were such nosy creatures, and he didn't exactly want to summon an entire gaggle of them. It would best if he did not have a crowd. Instead, the male simply waited. Sooner or later, someone would come across him, and hopefully that someone would be invested in the safe return of the captured woman.