Can you Hear the Siren call? (rogue hunt)

Gargoyle stepped out from under the shadow of the surrounding rock formations. He could smell the salt and grass upon the sea. His keen ears caught the occasional cry of gulls, brought only icy, bracing winds. It was good to be back in the North. He might no longer be what most wolves would recognize as an alpha, or even a pack leader, but he was a chief. His family still looked to him for guidance. Some had left of course; some had chosen to find homes in other lands or with other wolves, and Gargoyle had to concede that he understood, - but most of them, most of them had staid. The quiet, taciturn Cross of all creatures had taken to calling them the 'snow rogues', a name picked up by some of the adults - including Midnight, the group's bear tracker. Well, perhaps Gargoyle would have to find something to call them all eventually, but that would do for now. The male howled a long low note, up into the air. They'd traveled together to this cove, and while the main group searched for caves and shelter among the cliff faces, Gargoyle intended to lead a hunting party and find everyone some food. How long had it been since he'd had the pleasure of just focusing on a hunt?

(ooc: tag for wanderer, but open to any of the family)