The Taste of Her Cherry Chapstick

Around them, the grove is alight with noise. His ears can pick up everything from squirrels running up trees, rabbits diving into holes, birds resting in the branches. From the east, a breeze presses against his face, a tinge of salt that indicates it comes as far as the ocean, which from here, wasn't far at all. So far, it seems there aren't many other wolves or predators around. Perhaps a faint scent of patrols around the border, but this deep into the grove, they have it all to themselves. Even the path they follow is one of the ones less traveled. He can tell by the grass growing in patches in the middle where paws would have worn them down. There hadn't even been much of any deer scat or larger prey signs either which made sense since the berry season was coming to a close.

He notices all of this as they walk, a smile on his lips as Clove beams up at him. Of course he thought so! He wasn't the type of guy to lie. Lying was for chumps who didn't think they could handle the truth. So he leads her into the undergrowth, his own muzzle lowers toward the ground and begins to sniff out any scent signs of wild pig. Not far back, there had been some rutting at the base of a tree to indicate they had been here recently. It wouldn't take long of rustling through the brush before he too picked up that pungent earthy scent. His ears press forward as his vermilion gaze searches around. Clove finds it first and ushers her to look at what she's found.

"Tracks! Those definitely belong to pigs. Good job," he winks at the younger girl before moving forward. Following the tracks through the underbrush, noticing how many of the berry bushes had clumps ripped off of them. "I bet you notice how some of the bushes have clumps missing. That's a good sign," Wilder continues to help lead her along the path of the pigs. "Now what we really want to find is a good muddy patch around some trees. They like to rut around in the dirt for roots and bugs too. Let me know if you can see any," he points his muzzle ahead of them where the brush begins to open up to a small clearing.

WILDER