Once he'd rested from his mountain crossing, the lanky male had criss-crossed the region, looking for evidence of the others. He'd scented five or six wolves, but only two or three of them carried the same scent. He presumed them to be from the pack the Lore mass would be hunting. It did not appear that they were too large in number, but that remained to be seen. It was then that a sickly smell caught his attention. The odor sent shivers down his spine, causing his hackles to raise instinctively. The scent of wrongnesss was nearly overpowering to the seasoned wolf.
The stench of dirt mixed with saliva combined with an underlying, yet overpowering odor seemed thick in these woods. Instinctively, he shied away, knowing deep down that this scent meant certain death. His iron will overrode his instincts however and he pressed onwards, trailing the sick wolf that had left him marker everywhere. Cisco's ears pinned to his head as he drew closer. He couldn't see him yet, but Cisco just knew that the other wolf was just around the next tree or bend, or clump of foliage.
His nose told him what his eyes could not at the moment. This wolf smelled the same as a couple of the others. The sickness in the air and this fact told him what he needed to know. The trails of the other two did not have this taint on them. It would seem that his small bit of exploration told him that the pack the others were up against was small and it appeared that the male he tracked was the only one that smelled of the sickness. Now it was time for him to step up to the plate.