L i c h e n
M a l e | S e n t r y
"Lih-chen. That's how you say it.
Not Lie-ken. I am not a fungi."
M a l e | S e n t r y
"Lih-chen. That's how you say it.
Not Lie-ken. I am not a fungi."
It has been assumed that Lichen was now on break. He could smell the scent of one of the ranked sentry members approach him. He turned his head to the left. The sentry's head popped out from the entrance and greeted Lichen with a hearty bark. He dipped his head as a symbol of appreciation to the wolf that would be taking his place in the new shift. The first thing this chunky wolf wanted to do was run. It wasn't because he was the swiftest of wolves, since he definably wasn't. It was because of the exhilaration; feeling the cool frosty air billow his muzzle. As Lichen removed himself from his post, he bothered to ask permission from the wolf if he could go out for a run. "Why not? It's our forest." The wolf replied to Lichen. The speckled ginger dipped his head again and jerked away from the wolf, sprinting into the woods.
Lichen was minding his own business, taking a leak on one of the trees that loomed over him. He had been running for a while, exercising his stiff muscles. He was on post for what felt like all morning and he longed to stretch himself out. He kicked dirt and leaves over his mark, only because he felt it was polite to do so. Who wanted a full blast of his scent? Not himself for that matter. Another frosty breeze buffeted his back and he shivered. His flank was unprotected with the short fur he prayed would grow out. It never has. He wasn't meant to live in the cold. Just as the breeze had past, a mild scent of wolf teased past his nose. This scent was almost unfamiliar but it was in their camp before, however it was rare he would catch a smell of it. His nose raised up, daring to follow where it was coming from. Now nosing the brown leaves and twigs, he trotted in it's direction. His bum and long, curled tail stood straight up. This caught his interest now.
He was on top of a dirt hill, his reddish-brown eyes scanning the premises. The scent was unwavering now, stronger than his mark on the tree. However, nothing was out of sorts. No wolf either. Discouraged, he bounded down the side of the hill and landed clumsily into a clump of ferns. The ferns crumpled under his hefty weight. The ginger wolf quickly recovered his stance and his ears pricked to listen to anything that might have been startled. To his dismay, nothing. The scent of wolf was so strong he wanted to bury his muzzle beneath the crushed ferns. He did not retreat back to camp though, instead he inspected the area. The dirt hill he had once stood on had a burrow at the bottom made perfect to sleep in. At first he assumed it was the den of a coyote, because of the size, but the wolf's scent proved his assumption wrong. Without hesitation, he nosed the entrance of the den, ears forward with concern of who he might come face to face with. "Hello? Is anyone in here?" Nothing, but a supernatural presence caused his fur to tingle. It felt like he was being watched. Was something behind him? It caused him to spin around. A thin, white she-wolf with long legs stared straight back at him with mixed yellow eyes.
OOC: (Thank you for the feedback, I edited my post to fit your needs.)