Ding Dong Ditch

Desolate had now been a year without the comfort of a mother or father. He'd grown from a pup into a young man, and the worry within him only grew as he reached the milestone many would be proud of. At a year of age is when pups were able to leave their packs, and although Theory had taken him in he still felt he did not benefit Abaven enough with his presence. Without a parent to vouch for him, would him and his brothers be welcome within the pack's borders now that they were old enough to be on their own? It gnawed at him inside, and he took to doing the only thing he knew how to do - traveling the borders.

The holes dug confused him, though he didn't understand the significance of it nor realize it was meant to be vandalism. It wasn't until the scent of a stranger reached him, and he spotted him digging at and pissing along the border that Desolate became angry. Immediately he tipped his head back to call for an Abaven warrior or Theory, but he stopped himself before he could vocalize. He was a yearling now, and he didn't need to go calling for an adult anymore. He approached the stranger from Abaven's side of the border, fur standing on end and tail flagging. "Leave, now!" He insisted, trying his best to infuse as much threat as he could into his words.