Lars stumbled through a bramble-bush, catching his foreleg on a whip-like branch of thorns and tearing open a patch of fur. [i]Ouch.[/i] He pawed at the offending branch pathetically, before giving up and biting its stem off. It would fall off eventually--he hoped. 

He looked up and crouched down upon noticing the cloister of wolves across from him. Maybe if he was really quiet, they wouldn't notice his less-than-graceful entrance or the fact that he'd been out all night without permission--his new pack didn't really trust him yet, but at least he wasn't an omega--catching small moles and whatnot. He lingered near the brambles for a moment, before moving to crawl around the important-looking discussion in the shadows of the undergrowth. Maybe he'd just have to wait until they dispersed to tiptoe into the camp-ish thing they had going, and pretend he'd never left.