On a swampy bit of turf with a wide tree toppled over, a fairly moderate size pack waits on the other end. Where the Krachtig Iepen Pack rests there are several other large trees, and when observed closely one notices they have made use of to form dens. Most of these wolves share earthy or natural tones on their coats but a couple of wolves stand out with muted blue tones for fur.
As the leader treads over the log, treating it as a bridge they eye you up and down, sizing you up.
"Welcome. The Krachtig Iepen Pack always welcomes new visitors. Our lead hunting party just returned with fresh opossum if you're hungry."
They gesture to one of the younger wolves, maybe about 5 months if you were to guess.
"Sylva, would you mind showing our guest around?"
Sylva bounds up to you, a darker than night itself pup. Despite this, she has a bright white smile and green eyes that light up her face.
"I'm still a bit new to camp, one of our allies to the North sent me here. Traditionally in this pack, pups get to pick their own name when they are old enough to be responsible for themselves. Or responsible enough to start apprenticing under the adults. But because my mother already named me, and I want to honor her, I am going to keep the name Sylva."
As Sylva introduces herself and some of the customs to the Krachtig Iepen you both trot around the different dens where small groups of wolves gather. They seem to be separated generally by role. As you settle in, you cannot tell what is warmer, the warm sunlight on your backside, or the friendly approach of the pack.
