Harvest Clan

. . . Keepers of the Blue Harvest . . . 

You come across a shockingly large pumpkin patch beneath towering birch trees. You'd take one, but you can't find a single one without some sort of strange depiction carved into the outer flesh. Fresh pumpkin guts are strewn across the flattened, brittle grass, but it is not until you spot the pawprints hidden under it all that you realize that this is a pack's territory; how is it possible for an entire pack to leave no scent at all?