[Private Group] Wolvden RP

The snow lay thin and powdery across the ground, its innocent beauty a veneer over the harshness of winter. It was the lean months, and Basalt knew it. Her hunting team, floundering from the recent death of one of their best chasers and most beloved pack members, had let a relatively easy prey slip from their grasp, and even the most even-tempered among them huffed and growled in frustration as they prepared to return to the river empty-handed. Basalt, as the finisher, felt it the hardest; though she was no stranger to the disappointment of hunts, even she wasn't above a bit of anger and guilt. While the others had gone back, she had loped off in the opposite direction, going nowhere in particular. She simply didn't face the rest of the pack - least of all her daughter Bianca, who was only just beginning her own career as a finisher - until she'd calmed down and was fit to be a more exemplary elder.

After a while snuffling half-hardheartedly for the scents of rats or weasels, and nosing bushes for scarce winter berries, Basalt realized she'd strayed beyond her pack's territory. She was far from the river now, and the trees were no longer bare, beneath the snow was a carpet of soft brown pine needles. She couldn't scent any strong territory markings, but she might well be in another pack's hunting grounds by now: There were traces of unfamiliar wolves about. Basalt wasn't worried, however. She was an old, strong, and most importantly, an experienced wolf. Perhaps a new face might bring some excitement into her disappointing day.

Snow always looked innocent in the distance, like reaching out a paw will be met with indescribable fluff. But upon stepping into the snow, one is greeted with an harsh crunch alongside the unpleasant chill that runs up your spine. Herod is more than familiar with this feeling, having waded through patches of snow as he crossed the plains. Yet for some particular reason, he can't shake off the mesmerizing sight of snow. He always approaches snow with a curious expression, using his pawpad to press a pawprint into the snow. Only to be met with the cold reality that snow wasn't all that it was cut out to be. Then, after wading out of the snow with a shuddering grimace, he walks for a few paces before seeing another patch of snow, piquing his interest once more. 

Herod supposes that this curiosity comes with being new to the seasons, still a young wolf who has only experienced winter a few times. As much as the canine claims that he is old enough to live alone, he still has so much to experience and has a lot to learn. But instead of dwelling on regrets, he persists into exploring the regions beyond, edging away from the scent markers of other wolves to avoid confrontation. The loner already deals with enough predators when he enters a new terrain, there was no need to fight with another wolf over something as inconsequential as territory. 

Though it seems that avoiding wolves won't be possible when he walks away from the river he just crossed over, soaked to the bone in freezing water. He scrunched up his nose at the heavy feeling that comes from his fur being weighed down by water. Typically, his heavy fur was enough to keep him warm during the winter. But it seems that having a thick pelt was counterproductive when it comes to swimming. With his nose clogged up with water and his senses numbed by the cold, he loped over to the nearby woods. Upon passing some trees, the male set to work to shake the water out of his fur, shaking himself to and fro as water droplets splatter everywhere to leave dark spots in the snow. 

After a couple minutes of shaking his coat, he was left with fur that stuck out everywhere in messy and ragged tufts. Herod took a deep breath, sighing in relief at the feeling of his fur being semi-free of water. But he shrugged off grooming when his previously dulled senses caught the smell of another wolf alongside hearing someone sniffing around. Herod straightened up, blinking his eyes as he stared ahead at the origin of the scent and noise. The tricolored canine wondered of the chances that he only caught the scent of a wolf who passed by a while ago and if the noise was from something else entirely. Coincidence or not, the male set out to investigate. Pricking his ears to catch any other sound, he purposefully took a few steps forward. The loud sound of crunching snow resonated, giving away his presence. But he wasn't here to sneak, that would just make him look more suspicious. Instead, he tilted his head around, casting a glance across his surroundings as he waited to catch any movement or indication about his hunches. 

There was definitely another wolf about, a male, just the one. Basalt could handle that. She had caught his scent for a moment, faintly, but picking up that trail becomes unnecessary when the loud crunch of snow suddenly announced his presence. He clearly wasn't of a mind to avoid her, so Basalt turns to the noise to meet him. She is slightly surprised to see such a bedraggled-looking wolf, not unhealthy or ailing, but with the lean look of a loner and a fluffy coat that seemed recently disheveled. Basalt sniffs again and realizes why this is, and why his scent was slightly dulled - the thick, murky scent of river water had recently glazed it.

"You shouldn't enter the water in cold like this," she admonishes him, as though he is one of the adolescents of her own pack. "Even a pup like you should know that."

She punctuates her harsh remark with a swish of her tail, to indicate she is friendly, but not overly so, and goes on, "You have nothing to fear from me, youngster, as this is not my territory. But there is undoubtedly a pack here, and the two of us might well be trespassing on their hunting grounds." Basalt hesitates a moment. "You are a loner, I presume? You seem too haphazard to be a scout, but I suppose all of us were inexperienced, once."