The Northlands. Great, sweeping vistas of open tundra, with the treeline at your back and the endless Arctic spreading out ahead of you. Every wolf knows this place - even the rust-colored wolves of the South, the thin-furred, long-legged wolves an ocean away in the East, all of us - we all know this, where we fit best, where the country seemed to adapt to us instead of the other way around (though, of course, we are pleased with our strength in adaptation). No humans kick at us, build on our land, steal our pups - nothing is built to survive out here as we are. Sometimes the planes come, and it is bad. But mostly it is good. Hot, steaming meat red on the white plain, long running with the frothy frozen sea surging up beside you, enough territory for every pack to live like kings. Room to play, room to thrive. Our land. The Northlands. *** Thickjaw lifted her head, flaring her nostrils, jaws parted to take in the air's taste, temperature, and messages. Nothing was amiss. Nose and ears picked up a herd of caribou a ways up the tundra, the wind steadily blowing her scent away from them. No bears to avoid, no little foxes to chase from fresh kills. Except for the constant wind, the plain was at peace. Not so her pack. With a shake of her mane, the big wolf turned to look over the scruffy newcomers, loners who had so recently moved from trailing her pack to trotting with them. The others were uncomfortable with them yet, and it showed on the strangers' hides. Ah well. They would fight their way up from omega, settle to it, or fall away. She was perfectly content to wait and see. She glanced over her pups, young ones who had yet to find a place. Their road was easier, but still had yet to be travelled. Thickjaw whuffed through her teeth and walked among them, sure to brush her big shoulders against each packmate in turn, reassuring and dominating in a single movement. Her tail floated out straight behind her, head held high. It was time. She hunched her shoulders, making her mane ripple above them, and stared over the pack. Pulling back her lip ever so slightly, she spoke - "We are hungry. Our kill is done and scattered to the pests. We are a big pack, we need big food. Who will come to hunt deer?" Ears flicking to catch each sound, she stepped back and waited for them to step forward.