Where's the Blacksmith

Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd be back in this old song and dance again. He approached the borders of one of the packs he had been scoping out for a few days with a sigh. He had never wanted to go back to the ways of his family of going to packs to try and sell them things. He could survive well enough on his own catching smaller prey or even some slightly larger things. He was a large man - medium size prey was pretty doable. However, with the onset of winter those had been harder to come by and even in the warmer weather of the southern continent he wasn't having much luck finding what he was looking for. Sure, he could fish and he had found more than enough various kinds of prey, but there was one thing he couldn't seem to find.

Good leather.

He was having the damnedest time trying to find animals that would make for strong leather. That damn "friend" of his was constantly tearing up his armor and ate through his supply of leather like no one else. There was a few pieces that he had stuck back in the large satchel he carried with him that he could hopefully trade for or maybe even offer his services if they had any really good pieces of leather to offer him in return. There were very few joys Ruga found in his life, but having something to work on and keep his paws busy was one of them and he couldn't do that if he didn't have the right materials. He finally got over his own pride and lifted his head to call for their alpha, waiting at the border for the wolf to appear.

"Ruga Amanto"