We are descendants of Timmorn; the blood of wolves and elves mingle in our veins as we hunt, howl, and live free. Our holt is in a dense redwood forest, mountains rise to our east and south, trees sprawl to the north, and to the west lies the vast deep water... and the five fingers.

Treecat leads this tribe of wolfriders, he is blood of six chieftain's. It is now in the 143rd turn of the seasons since he was bestoed his chieftain's lock.

The first chief, Staghunter, followed the herds, the tribe following him until they reached the edge the the vast deep and could travel no further. It was here his son made their new home, established their first holt. With the towering redwoods, lush forest floor, and abundent game they thrived and grew. Day turning to night, turn upon turn... Chieftain followed by Chieftain... howl upon howl, our tribe has survived many hardships and trials, letting the way guide their footsteps... won't you step with us?

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