The Range

Now that it seemed like he would be spending a significant amount of time (if not the rest of his mortal life) in Boreas as a part of the Ashen Empire, Maverick was making a conscious effort to get to know all of the surrounding lands like the back of his paw. Branching out from the northern white-treed forests of Ashen, the dire wolf headed north, past the Rio Grande and into some expansive golden fields flanked on one side by a large orchard. The warm spring breeze rippled across the grasses, making them sway like waves on the ocean. Sunlight seemed to make each strand shimmer. Two large structures stood like monuments amongst the wheat fields, their dilapidated skeletons remains from a civilization long-since gone. He approached the barn first, pushing his large body through the large wooden doors with a creak of timber and rusted iron. The inside of the barn was dark and smelled of mildew and old straw. Sniffing about revealed nothing much of interest, so he made his way to the opposite sides of the barn, where he pushed his way back outside—and came face to face with another wolf about his height, this male black and blue as opposed to his white and navy.

"Oh, jeez! Hi!" Mav said with a startled recoil, releasing a hard exhale as the shock left him. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see anyone else here!"

"Maverick"