Erlendur, without much alacrity, stalked along the North Winds/East Winds border. Bestowed once more with the drudgery of patrolling, Erlendur had lost almost all heart for the work. He should be leading hunting teams like his brother; not patrolling the border of most painful memories.

Yet here he was, trotting over the sticks and stones as if his paws were made of the latter.

"Yoi!" He cried out as pain rippled from his rear leg.

"On your toes, Erlendur. I'll have no patrol wolves with their paws stuck in the mud." His superior lieutenant growled.

"Yes, Borigg Pineracer." He submitted, picking up the pace. He could understand why Borigg was so bitter, as his own failure also reflected badly on the lieutenant. It had marred his chance of advancing to captain for at least an extra few fortnights.

Then, mid-thought, something caught his eye. It was a flash of white...

Erlendur cocked his head and paused, focusing on the white. It took a moment for him to identify it... It was the White Stag!

The silver wolf locked eyes with the majestic White Stag. It stood there, far from its herd in the East Winds land, watching him.

Erlendur felt locked in a trance between him and the stag, when suddenly a fierce impact hit him in the side, knocking the wind out of his chest. He was on the ground in a heartbeat, suddenly surrounded by snarls and growls. "Ambush!-" His superior Lieutenant barely was able to howl before also being barreled over.

Erlendur was plunged right into the heart of the battle, and he could hardly tell his own packets pelts from those of his enemies in the writhing mass.

Erlendur bit and nipped at opponents in reach, all the while eavesdropping on the battle conversation between the two Lieutenants.

"Why battle unannounced? This is dishonorable! Against the Code of the Ancients." Borrig cried.

"Blast the Code of the Ancients! Our pack must survive! Without Winter Territory, how is it possible that we can prevail?" The white War Lieutenant of the East Winds growled.

Territory. This dishonorable dispute was about territory? Typical, of the East Winds, Erlendur snorted in his head.

Angered, he launched himself into the fray, landing himself on top of the muscular back of a brown wolf. His foe growled, flipping over and landing him beneath her. Erlendur's wit was quick, however, and so managed to regain himself. Not only that, but he landed himself -on top- of the wolf, pinning her belly up on the earth.

Only then, did he see the eyes of his foe, and his heart froze.

It was the green-eyed she-wolf. The very one he had seen before, across the border, the day of his great shame. Her eyes were far less sympathetic now, of course; yet they betrayed the sense that she didn't agree with the breaking of the Code of the Ancients.

Because of this, he hesitated, thinking, the smell of grass-and-wildflowers mixed with blood filling his nostrils. It was less of a hesitation however, and more along the lines of an offer. An offer of which, with a catch to her eye, was quickly accepted, and she rolled away out from under him, returning to the fray.

He too, after a moment's breath returned to battle, tacking one opponent after the next as they came. Much to his dismay, they appeared to be loosing the battle. His pack's wolves were beginning to loose their ground, and those who still fought looked ready to give in.

His fears were turned true, as the opposing Lieutenant let out the victory howl; before he knew it, he was being chased out of what had, moments ago, been his own territory.

His legs ached from the strain, and finally the East Winds wolves held back as they returned to what still counted as their territory. They had just lost their outer-flanking hunting grounds. Poor land, but land was power. His pack would be weakened severely by this blow.

"Erlendur! You fool! What were you thinking? By the Ancients!" came the sharp voice of his infuriated Superior Lieutenant, almost as if to add to the pain of the moment. "You know better than to aid an enemy in battle!"

Shock and ice ran up his body. He had been seen! His release of the she-wolf had not been as discreet as he had hoped. "Borigg Pineracer, my most sincere apologies, it was a slip of me." He replied. If he dared lie, and was found guilty, the punishments were severe indeed.

"A most severe slip! One warrior can turn a battle, and you turned it in their favor! The Alpha will have word of this!"

Erlendur's head down in shame for the second time in as many weeks, he turned and followed behind his newly hostile-to-him patrol. Worry welled in his belly. Another fault like this, and his name would be lost to him, forever.