Despite popular opinion, Charon had been right. Jackrabbit could not survive the winter on his own and he knew it, leading him further away from Redhawk Caldera in search of a pack, not a family, but a pack. One where he would not have to love, nor share comforting affections nor all the touchy-feely things that was accosted with family of any kind. Jack had a family twice over and had no interest in shoving himself into a third. The boy wonder strolled the coast line, a mass of dark blue rushing waves that seemed to go on forever at his awe. Never had he seen such a thing, bringing weight to the fact he was a particle in an ocean of everything else. The boy recalled the times he had believed him to be so big; a childish belief that had led him astray more than once. It would never happen again, he was sure as he vowed to the deep blue sea. Only when the great mass of water dried up would he call another place home again, call another father or mother; take another name that was not his to take. Perhaps hitting rock bottom would be the best thing that ever happened to him. 

But for now, he ventured on, stopping only occasionally to map his course. He had ventured in a reality straight direction, using the peak of the murderous Mountain to guide him in the other way. He had walked so far, becoming leaner with each day if it was even possible; for the lack of food had drawn him thin. Aside from the occasional mouse, rabbit, squirrel, bird or fish, Jackrabbit could not hunt solely but himself with much effectiveness, having relied primarily on Peregrine and the caches to do that for him. Therefore, he had taken longer to fill himself with the small fish of the sea, slowing his journey but regaining his energy. The next day, he picked himself up from the sand and streached, observing the markers in the sand that he had placed the night before to help him journey in the right direction when he woke. 

He walked.

Until, he found a border.

The boy had been around the block enough times to know where the line stood, and from what he could tell, this was it. The place itself have off an unfamiliar feeling, though perhaps, it was the cool ocean breeze that sent the shivers down his spine. Whatever it was, he would take it. Yet, he didn't exactly know how do go about doing so. Was he.. was he supposed to howl or something? He couldn't really do that without making himself look like an idiot. So, he waited. And waited. Simply sitting at the borders until another would approach him. Until then, he sighed, eyes intent as they looked within the unfamiliar territory; wondering if this would ever be his home.

It was on a routine patrol that Kjalarr stumbled across the scent upon his borders and made a direct beeline for it, curious and suspicious as to why a call had not risen into the air. None had torn the sky asunder and without the ability to determine why there was a stranger at his borders Kjalarr approached with raised hackles and stiff posture, his tail curled over his back in a very physical display of his dominance. The Jarl saw the stranger easily enough, varying shades of greys to Kjalarr's monochromcy. More importantly Kjalarr could smell him. Strongly at that. A very faint, almost nonexistent scent of a pack clung to his fur though it was clear to Kjalarr that the boy had been on his own for a while. As he neared, Kjalarr's steps slowed, his icy caribbean gaze starburst with silver assessed the young male. Not quite a boy any longer but not also a man full grown yet. Juvenile, perhaps.

“This is Saltwinter,” Kjalarr introduced the pack gesturing towards the heart of the Sound with his muzzle slightly as he spoke. “I am Kjalarr, the Alpha.” It still felt strange not to add 'male' to the end of it but there was no longer need to make the distinction. Caiaphas was missing and though Kjalarr refused to give up hope he had to also turn his sights forward. He was the sole Alpha of Saltwinter now and he had his job to do: lead them. The world would not stop spinning for her, just as it hadn't for Whittier, and Saltwinter had to keep moving forward, too. For a moment, he considered remarking that the juvenile was far from home but then stopped himself. For a moment, in a strong wave of deja vu he was reminded fiercely of himself at this boy's age. He could no longer exactly remember how old he'd been when the Frostfurs had left and he'd joined Moonspear or when he'd left to come to Caiaphas seeking a home with her and hers. All he remembered was that he'd been young. A boy still with a tendency of reckless abandon and a foolish desire to prove himself to the world even if it killed him. It almost had. Luckily, the three scars that cut through his muzzle were all that were left as reminders of his childish stupidity and reckless nerve. It was cringe-worthy for him to look back upon putting into prospective just how much Kjalarr had grown and matured since then.

“What can I do for you?” Kjalarr inquired amiably, his hackles having relaxed though he kept his dominant posture.

The youthling did not have to wait every long until his presence was noticed; a rather intimidating male having made his way through the territory to stand before the boy who was currently staring back with wide eyes. The other's most notable feature was the three slashes upon his maw, indicating many things to the boy that made him swallow his pride (for once). Standing, he did not meet the eyes of the male, perhaps his best sign of submission that he knew. "Saltwinter," The boy mumbled, having never heard of such a place before. When the man, Kjalarr, asked of his purpose; the boy remained silent. What he wanted, was to move on, to find a place where fate could not find him, a place where he would never have to be haunted by siblings and the ghost of dead parents. Could Saltwinter — this Kjalarr do that for him; or would it be no different than the last few failed attempts at making a home for himself. 

"I need a place," The boy spoke; his brow furrowed whilst his eyes hardened. He did not say home — he did not need a home for he would never know what a home really was. The very definition was foreign to him, for all who had loved him had perished as did his standing in any home had come to. Jackrabbit was not looking for a home, we was looking for a place to survive. More specifically, survive alone. The boy snapped his mouth shut and looked to the scarred male, not shallow but not entirely audacious either, for he had never been taught the manners needed to get into good graces, nevermind. Jackrabbit knew he would not be of much use to the male, nor the upkeep of a pack yet he could not bring himself to be completely humble; it was not of his nature. Instead, he would learn, if Kjalarr the Alpha accepted his request. Otherwise, the boy would move one once more as he had many times before.

“Well,” Kjalarr let out a breath when the stranger told him that he needed a place. “the good news is Saltwinter is a place.” The Viking grinned at his own (lame) attempt at humor, his tail wagging a few times. Uh, yeah. That was lame. Obviously, Kjalarr was not meant to be a comedian and probably shouldn't quit his day job for it. “Ah, that was meant to be funny,” But clearly just because he'd been tickled by it didn't mean the boy would be. The Viking's brows furrowed then, settling back into a serious expression. “You have a name, lad?” Kjalarr inquired, having not recalled hearing one given between repeating Saltwinter and bluntly coming forward with him needing a place. Kjalarr was all for not beating around the bush but the Viking was left to assume that sociable wasn't something that this kid was.

Customarily, Kjalarr would inquire if he had any skills he could offer Saltwinter but he was still a kid and though old enough to offer contribution to the pack he wasn't sure if he had any sort of specific skills and didn't really expect it. So, he would have to improvise while being honest. “Saltwinter welcomes all, so long as they contribute to the pack. There's no freeloaders here, kid. As long as you can help fill the caches, or piss on the borders, or intercept strangers at the borders or something you're welcome.” Really, Kjalarr didn't ask too much and tried to stay true to Saltwinter's beginnings: when they were a band of loners just looking to survive the winter. Contribution was key to success and it had seen them through this long, so far.

The boy stared blankly as the formerly intimidating man laughed at his own joke. And almost instantly, the boy himself abandoned any worries of the much larger man spontaneously ripping him to pieces, seeing as the Alpha male didn't really seem all that scary at heart. "Oh," The boy simply spoke, unsure if he was expected to laugh even after the joke had shriveled out of relevance, or if he should say it was funny to be nice, even if it really was just a really, really, bad joke. After all the time he had spent with Peregrine, the boy had ought to know by then. Or maybe, his silence would be translated as a dire wish for the other man to never, ever utter another joke again for the sake of sanity of everyone involved. Jackrabbit certainly hoped so.

"Jackrabbit Redhawk," The youthling replied, choosing to stick with his second given name rather than playing the 'A Boy Has No Name,' game (again). "Jack — whichever works," The boy shrugged once more, yet almost instantly regretted speaking the Caldera name, for really, he wasn't exactly one of them anymore. The last thing he wanted was the other to come up with any connections or assume things that Jackrabbit best believed to leave in the past. Unknowingly, almost everybody knew a Redhawk, regardless of where he was. Yet, the Redhawk name would soon be forgotten, the longer the stayed away, he was sure. He would always love them, sure, but the death of Peregrine was something he did not want to hold on to. Something that he couldn't have holding on to him. 

Yet, the topic was no sooner switched over and the boy readily nodded. True, he could not exactly fight off trespassers or take down deer, but he could at least do something productive, he figured. "I can do that, I guess," He looked down at his willowy legs and internally rolled his eyes. If being the trespasser counted, he had all the credibility for that. However, he was sure he would grow out of his lean form one of these days, and if squatting on the border was what it took to become a Saltwinter man, he would do it. Jackrabbit was not a freeloader, he had never been a waste-away — not even as Stoic Silvertip. Despite having dropped the idea that he was destined for some kind of "greatness", the boy had ambition and would not see himself fail, even though he had started over countless times before.

Kjalarr listened while the boy spoke, noting his name and deliberating on the boy's choice of words to Kjalarr's expectations. I can do that, I guess wasn't exactly the answer Kjalarr had been looking for. There wasn't anything to guess about and it hadn't been a suggestion. It was expected of every Saltwinter wolf and this boy was no different. If he didn't contribute then he would find himself homeless again. “Well Jack,” Kjalarr drew, fixing the boy in a stare. “Just be sure you contribute to the pack,” Kjalarr was being repetitive intentionally. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole “I guess” bit, but it wouldn't hurt anything to allow the boy in and see how he did. “Get yourself settled, get some rest, whatever you need to do,” Kjalarr invited him in with a step back. “I'll give you the tour but I suggest after you get settled in that you seek out Maude. She's the Beta.” And Kjalarr thought it was important that the newcomers met his partner in crime and vice versa.

“I can,” His eyes narrowed, meeting the stare of the man as if to search for a challenge within his eyes. Despite having previously believed his efforts weren’t exactly going to be the foundation of the pack, he would not let Kjalarr think he was a silly little boy with no use. Peregrine had taught him a few things during his time in the Caldera, enough to ensure he could at least mark a border or something. His turn of attitude was not to be blamed on his age but experiences that had led him to become even more determined, yet not so that he believed himself to be destined for greatness like Charon had thought himself. Jackrabbit was simply a boy with great troubles yet struggled everyday to deal with himself and his current state of life. Saltwinter would give him a place where he could survive, yet not a home, a place where he would have to work to become apart of their way of life instead of being accepted as their son like Fox and Peregrine had. The thought of the two sent a pain to his heart and he broke the trace of eye contact between himself and the Alpha, walking past the man and into the territory of the coastline pack; making note to seek out this Maude person, whoever they were but not before muttering a quick, “thanks,” — something he had grown to abandon and reattach to his vocabilary only when he truly meant it.