count the snowflakes
as they bury you alive
Cancer had just finished a hunt, and his black paws were working the frozen ground to unearth one of the communal caches. He never liked leaving the meat he worked for to the others, but that was one of the many sacrifices in being a part of a pack; he had to keep himself somewhat useful to the rest. Really, though, that was about the biggest concession he'd run into so far. That's why, when Reyes' call descended from the sky into his ears, he wasn't as annoyed as he usual would be at the thought of being summoned. These leaders, this pack, they left him alone, gave him freedom and didn't crawl up his ass every day to assert themselves or butt into his business. Cancer appreciated that more than he wanted to admit, and so abandoning what he was doing to heed his alpha was a small trade-off.
Grasping the dead pheasant between his jaws, because like hell he was just going to leave it out, he made his way calmly through the forest and around the Shallows' shore. There was no haste in his steps, but he didn't dally either. Still, there were a lot of wolves gathered already by the time he made it. Certainly more than he knew. He'd known they were growing by the new scents that laced the ground and air, but hadn't gone out of his way to meet any of them or even collect a census for his own reference. It didn't really matter, did it?
He sat at an inclusive proximity, but not really near anyone in particular, and then dropped down completely to his stomach. Pheasant atop his outstretched forelimbs, his small teeth began to pick through the feathers as his eyes and ears faced ahead to Reyes and Askan, awaiting whatever words they had for them all.