The days were growing colder; shorter. Soon the lands of Lore would be covered in a thick blanket of snow, making it difficult to both hunt and keep warm. But the Arctic was prepared for it, as always. While some of his subordinates were new to the pack this winter, most of them had endured the winters of northern Lore before. His children would be the most shocked, as this would be their first winter, but with Arctic blood coursing through their veins he did not worry about them.
Fortunately, for Driftwood, their pesky neighbours of the north had remained quiet over the recent weeks. Frankly, Lachesis did not even know if they were still there. Their scent remained but it was not as strong as it once was. He would need to send a scout that way to determine the status of the pack. If they continued to call the northern shores of Turtleback home they were still a threat and would need to be removed. Lachesis knew that, if he needed them, that his brothers friends in Shallows Edge would help him eliminate the Keep wolves from his radar. Not only did they threaten the hunting grounds of Driftwood, but the Shallows too. If the river wolves couldn’t hunt in the north they would retreat to the south, which was where Askan and Reyes hunted alongside their subordinates. The north had always belonged to Lachesis and the river wolves—they had settled for years in the Kingsfall before moving closer to the mountain. They would not be moved again.
He folded his hindquarters against the ground as he took a set near the edge of the lake, his chartreuse gaze fixated on the islands in the distance. It was moments like this he cherished—where he was free of his troubles and could ignore his duties for a few hours before he was needed back in Driftwood.