My skills have begun to grow the longer I stay in one place, no longer wandering far distances and haranguing wolf settlements across the continent. I had always known I was good at tracking and had even offered my services before on a few missions. The most recent memory was of finding a pack in the arctic, their wolves whipped into a frenzy due to a missing youngster and despite all their exhaustive attempts at searching for the pernicious little brat they had come up empty. So I had offered - I mean, no harm done if I didn't find him right? Couldn't possibly get more lost than he was. Nasty business it was for I had indeed picked up the faintest of scent from him - a product of my especially keen nose, my genetics being superb - and tracked him to an icy cave. All I had found were bits of fur with some congealed blood and the rancid scent of a snow cat. They were huge, their tail's almost longer than their body, and vicious killers. Why should I stick around to make certain he was dead? I already was, anyways. A belly warmer now, I had regretfully informed them, and while they howled in grief and anger, I took advantage and got me some 'refreshments' before heading out on my next adventure.

While I was not hungry today I had decided to test some more of my tracking skills. See if I couldn't find something interesting to amuse me. Besides, information was the key to success as my mother had once said - not that I often listened to much of what she spouted. So I began to pick up random scents of wolves, starting with the freshest and tracking them until they ended at the wolves themselves. I didn't go introduce myself, finding it completely unworthy of my time at the moment to get distracted. I would then turn around and find a less than fresh trail and test the strength of my keen nose, pausing every once and a while to leave my own mark against a tree or bush if you know what I mean. The world won't forget I was here.

Whenever a scent disappeared into the border of a pack I would double back and start with a new one, this time working on an almost non-existence trail that had me meandering up some rocks, careful to place my paws in an exact spot so that I do not slide down into the disjointed things. A sprained wrist was not a kind thing to have as a loner. The trail was tricky, disappearing amongst the rocks so that I would have to climb up and down again to find where it picked up once more. My obsidian coat gleams sleek against the dull rocks, the silver fur that starts beneath my neck and trails down my stomach bright against me, the same silver that edges my back jaw and inside my ears. Silver-blue eyes, metallic in nature, glance around as I work, wondering if I should find this elusive spirit.