Wandering Flock

The snow is picking up, overwhelming your already difficult exploration of the lower sector of the mountain range. Your fur provides protection, but even it is faltering as the icy air pounds on your neck. You can't see through the fog, but there seems to be a small tree in the distance. You can shelter there, perhaps.

You trudge through the snow, and you seem to be approaching the tree faster than expected. Or is moving towards you? You startle once you realize the tree is actually a large male wolf, sporting two ragged tusks that pool saliva near his bite, and his tiny companion, almost more intimidating with her nonchalant nature.

The large wolf barely acknowledges you with a nod of his head and looks to who you presume is his packmate. "Ah, a wanderer! At this time of year? You must not be from here. Poor thing. Our pack is sheltering just west of here, if you'd like to get out of this blizzard. I would reccomend it," the smaller wolf jokes, spinning around with a harsh clank of the talons strung on her neck, beckoning with her tail for you to follow. Why are they even out in the first place?

Along the way, the small beige wolf introduces herself as Osprey and her companion as her huntmate, Eagle. They mention that they hunt the elk when they're weakened from the lack of prey in winter, and they're usually even lower down the valley by now. Confusedly, you ask why they travel so far to hunt. Osprey laughs, shaking her head. "Of course! Well, most packs stay in one place, but the Wandering Flock has many campsites throughout the mountains here for the different times of year. Hence the name."

Huh. Curious.