The scent of the pack was incredibly pungent, almost too overpowering for Lonán's sensitive nose, now that they were approaching the marked borders. He could distinguish more about the pack now. Bellatrix had not been lying when she had said that there were a lot of males. The dark yearling could pick out no less than ten of them, along with three or maybe four female scents. One of those scents, he knew, belonged to the so called 'leading lady'.
The yearling couldn't help but think it unusual that a pack was being governed by a sole individual. In his naivety, he presumed that the lead female must have been an old, wise female, with years of experience on her side. As his paws finally paused a few lengths away from the territorial boundary, he hoped that the old wolf would be kind and take pity on him, and not turn him away to be tracked down and feasted on by the hungry coyotes.
To improve his chances of acceptance — and survival — he continued to crouch low to the ground, held his head down and kept his slim tail tucked submissively between his legs in preparation for the lead female's arrival.