Nash walked along the borders, pausing every so often to stretch the stiffness from his leg. He'd been up for a while now and it didn't ache as much as it had in the morning, but the awareness of the injury was still there and his hip still didn't want to bear his weight quite right. He was starting to grow more concerned about it. Would it disappear once the weather warmed up, or would it plague him for the rest of his life? He'd thought he'd escaped any long-lasting damage from that fight, unlike his poor brother, but it appeared time had proven him wrong.
He smelled it toward the end of his circuit, not too far from where their boundary met the shoreline. He picked up his pace to a limping trot, ears pricked and hoping he was right - and he was. A relatively fresh carcass of a deer. It was no longer warm, but other scavengers had yet to do much damage. He tilted his head back and called for the pack, his message clear: family meal.