Upon re-entering the Lore, Sif had managed to skirt around the pack land that had popped up almost as soon as he’d come in. Why anyone would want to live in those murky woods was beyond him, but that was their business he supposed. Thinking logically, perhaps it provided a good means of cover against attack or had a surprising abundance of prey. There certainly seemed to be plenty of nooks and crannies for a fat squirrel or hare to hide in. Still, it didn’t tickle his fancy enough for him to explore and he preferred to stay plenty far away from the possibility of accidentally going over a border. After all, he did have manners which dictated that if you were going to go near someone’s borders you needed to at least notify them. Yet, since he had no real interest in it he’d decided it was best to keep a respectable distance and continue on his way.
Dreary forest had turned into an impressive display of large trees colored brightly by red ferns at nearly every corner. Now this, this he could get into. It seemed the area was plenty large, and the life that teemed in it made him wonder why no one had decided to claim it. Yet, taking a big sniff he soon found the reason why. Coming from upwind blew the scent of another pack, not as strong as the one before but certainly still there. It seemed the Red Fern Forest was smack dab in between two packs, and then it made much more sense. Still, to him it seemed like such a waste.
As he’d been traveling most of the day, Sif thought this area was as good a place to take a pit stop. Have a nice meal and enjoy the scenery, trying to ignore the humidity that was slowly seeping into his thick Russian pelt. He was meant for much colder climates, that much was for certain with his bulky frame. A sigh rumbled from his chest as he prepared for a hunt, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in. YA , Sif Mikhaylovich , vash pokornyy Septon , prizyvayem Kroun vesti menya v etoy okhote . Pozvol'te mne sdelat' pravil'nyy vybor respektabel'nykh , chtoby ya mog s"yest' i prodolzhit' tsikl zhizni . YA prizyvayu Voina , chtoby dat' mne sily , chtoby nachat' i zakonchit' etu okhotu , i ya prizyvayu svyatoy Materi , chtoby derzhat' menya milostivym v moyem ubiystve . Amin'. he prayed. Opening his mismatched gaze, he steeled himself and prepared for the hunt.