The sun has just dropped below the western peaks, casting long, purple shadows across the central pack clearing. Most of the pack is gathered around a crackling fire for the evening meal, their chatter a low, constant murmur. Sue is not with them. She is deep within the cool, earthy scent of her storage cave, carefully organizing the dried mosses and bundled roots. She is meticulously labeling them with small, carved birch tags when she hears the scrape of heavy claws on the stone outside. Tarik enters the cache, not to speak with her, but simply to check the defenses. He carries the powerful, grounded scent of a Wolf who has spent his day checking every boundary marker. He pauses at the entrance, his broad shoulders filling the archway, momentarily blocking the last of the dusk light.

He doesn't look at her immediately, running a heavy hand along the solid timber frame he ordered installed.

"The outer wall is secure,"

Tarik stated, his voice a gravelly monotone of fatigue.

"The traps are reset along the northern creek line. I verified the inventory for the hunters. Did you finish sorting the Winterbark, Sue? I need to know how many shifts will be needed to gather more before the first frost."