Scar loped along easily through his territory. This cave, and the surrounding area, had been claimed by him ever since he was merely a pup, squirming around on another cave floor without his mother. From the start, he'd had it rough. No mother, no father, no one to teach him the ways of the pack. No leader, no follower - no one but himself. And that he'd kept. When he found a mate, eventually they'd start a pack of their own... but not yet. Not yet. This land was his - and was rich. The cave had a wide pool in it, constantly refreshed by the chance-stream that ran from the lake to the cave, trickling fresh water down into the pool. An endless supply. The rabbits here were plentiful, and the occasional deer that wandered through was the perfect addition. He had driven all other competition from the area, save one she-fox that refused to leave. He left her alone - she left him alone. It was a good life.
He was a white wolf. With black markings that made him look a little goofy when seen in the right light. But assuming that would be a fatal mistake. His left eye was scarred and sightless, his right ear was chewed, and there was a scar across his muzzle - one around his neck. He'd fought. And won. The ice-blue eyes were hard as nails, almost daring a challanger to attempt to take this land from him.
