Way in the back is a scraggly scrap of fur that you can only assume is still a wolf. He keeps himself plastered to the ground, a shrill wine consistently droning from his throat. His white ringed eyes dart between you and his pack, almost like he's trying to warn you of something... You can count his ribs through his patchy coat, and he's covered in deep gashes that reek of sickly sweet infection, attracting his own personal flock of flies.
He is the only wolf that has spotted you, or at least is the only one acknowledging your presence. As you watch the pack, you notice he keeps close to a small cleft in the rocks set apart from the main cave. It seems that is where he sleeps, alone, as the smell of his infection is incredibly strong in that direction.
All of a sudden the distance between you and the unnerving pack seems far, far, too small, maybe it would be best if you went on your way...
