Kintla Flatlands in the heart of the beast they will lay

As he composed himself, Mordecai became acutely aware that he was not alone. There was simply just something about the way the air had shifted around him, some sort of tellatale sign that either he was being approached, or had unknowingly approached someone else. By the time he had brought himself to scan the terrain around him, it became a short search. From the fading shadows emerged another wolf, cloaked in a silvery, maybe even ivory coat. He stood out against the autumnal foliage, but not without an air of regality that Mordecai picked up on. For a moment, the tawny Ostrega wondered if he had stumbled in too close to a pack, but then doubted his speculation. This territory did not seem suitable for a pack, at least not with winter coming.

Holding his ground, he was absent of words and instead held a curious gaze. A quiet prompt, a greeting, Mordecai was not clear. Though he kept himself neutral, he couldn't help but study the electric blue gaze of the yearling, finding it was not unlike that of Lucius. But in the same stroke, Mordecai would have probably have been reminded of the ambitious yearling by any light-colored, blue-eyed wolf.