The afternoon was partially cloudy and Grimlock had felt like he had been playing hide and seek with the sun all day as it came in and out of hiding as the raptor moved with his nose practically stuck to the earth, looking for a specific pack scent in particular. A couple times his inexperience had him going in some kind of funky, arching circle that left the raptor feeling like an idiot. Luckily, there was no one there to point out his humiliation except his own sharp witted, silver tongued conscious. As it was the scout apprentice — or rather that was what he had been had been left to retrace his steps using all of his senses and not just his eye sight. Grimlock had lost count of how many times Sveinx had lectured him on the importance of “being one with the earth” and all that hippy like crap his dad had been partial too as Head Scout. Crete had returned to the Falcons (admittedly with no one the wiser of things that he had done) and it had been his scent and stories that had filled the raptor child teen with the grand scheme that he could go out on his own and experience the world, that he had enough street smarts to attempt to find this ‘Blacktail Deer Plateau’ and do it all on his own without the help of his parents, or one of his sisters holding his paw like he was some incapable, drooling little boy (which he guessed to them he more or less was).

Grimlock paused suddenly, lifted his leg and relieved himself on a bush, only to let out snicker that erupted into a bought of raucous laughter when a chipmunk came darting out, squeaking it’s displeasure at being urinated on at him, rising on it’s two little back legs as if it made him as tall as a grizzly bear. For the unintelligible lecture Grimlock was getting he might as well have thought that he was intimidating at all to the canine who just smirked down at it, and shooed it off with a forepaw so he didn’t accidentally step on it. “My bad little dude,” Grimlock called after it though he was sure that the chipmunk didn’t understand him and more than the raptor had understood it. Drawing in a breath he shook his head and carried on with his journey hoping that he found them soon or he would have to chalk up the fact that his skills weren’t half as stellar as he had first thought and bunker down for the night. And find some grub. His stomach let out a small rumble of agreement. He was always hungry — his stomach was like a black pit or a ravenous beast. Or a black pit housing a ravenous beast.

Just when Grimlock had been about to throw the white flag of surrender and call it a day — with the intention of sulking off to lick his pride wounds yet again, when he scented their borders. It was faint at first but after following it anticipation rose in him, nearly stealing the raptor’s breath as the bubble lodged itself into his throat. “Ha! I’ve finally found you,” A large grin spread over Grimlock’s muzzle as he shifted his body so he was in a partial neutral and partial submissive pose before he lifted his head and called for a leader, figuring he’d maybe (if they were even still in the falcons when he was born, tokio isn’t real sure) surprise his family. If any of them even remembered or knew him. If they did he had only been a fuzzy little newborn tyke.

It didn’t take very long — actually it was probably some sort of world record the raptor felt sure — for someone to greet him. Someone that struck the teen as familiar. There was always the possibility, he reminded himself, that the wolf that was quickly approaching the borders was just a black wolf and just because he was ebony colored didn’t mean he was a DiSarinno. But they were a monotone colored bunch for the most part, ranging from ivory, to grey, to even silver, to black; but the monarchs of their family had been smoky black and ivory and well it seemed obvious that they all took after one parent, or the other, or a mix of them, or distant relatives or however it was that genetics worked. Caution worked it’s way onto his face and he bordered on it (caution) and curiosity, awkward and coltish body tensing until he heard his full name fall from the other male’s lips. In that split second Grimlock had relaxed and grinned widely at his uncle — admittedly not all too sure which uncle it was; he tended to get Peregrine and Atticus mixed up — and his mix up caught him now as he attempted to recall if this was Atticus of Peregrine before him.

“’Sup dude?” The raptor greeted his uncle before inhaling and puffing out his cheeks, letting the air expel slowly, realizing that he was going to have to admit that he wasn’t sure which Uncle he was. “Not to be offensive or anything but …are you Perry or Atti?” Even a little kid he had always been getting them confused and joked, “Maybe you two should get name tags or something.” Maybe it was an inappropriate time for a joke but he was buoyant and young (if not a little crude) and, though he knew there was always a possibility he wouldn’t be welcomed he was hopeful, nevertheless.

For a brief second, Grimlock had a severe moment of doubt on this whole ‘experience life on your own’ thing. Marigold had literally begged the, perhaps overeager, raptor not to go and then tried to give the headstrong teen the whole “you’re too young, you’ll get yourself killed” speech with a level of sternness that might have made the abruptly guilt-ridden Grimlock into staying if Sveinx hadn’t intervened. Maybe Mama was right, but the raptor brushed those thoughts away with an errant flick of his tail against his hind legs. It was too late to turn back now, and anyway, he had found the part of the DiSarinno’s (technically Redleaf-DiSarinno’s) that resided here. Finally he had made it and there was no reason to get cold feet and chicken out now. There was a terse edge in Peregrine’s reply that made the boy’s ears lower, some of his previous excitement and casualness sapping out of him a bit.

“My bad Uncle Peregrine,” It was spoken sheepishly, if not a bit guiltily, peering up at Peregrine through his lashes like some kind of overgrown puppy, as it was, oblivious as the teenager tended to be at times, he missed the twinkle in the older man’s eye. “My dad said I could come!” It was knee jerk, defensive blurt of words. Of course it was after the fact that Grimlock realized he sounded like a kid that had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. He inhaled deeply, shook off his sudden bought of child-like nerves and steeled his shoulders. “Ok, well it was more like If you think you can do it, go; but don’t come back here with your tail between your legs if you fail,” Grimlock morphed his voice to resemble his father’s deep timber - which wasn’t all that hard probably because Grimlock’s voice, in that awkward stage of childish and manly would likely resemble Sveinx’s own.

“But I didn’t fail. I found you. I’ve been apprenticing under him as Scout and I found my way here,” And he was so ridiculously proud of himself in that moment that it positively radiated off of him. “But…I don’t want to go back. I want my freedoms du--uncle Peregrine." It had been a quick catch. "I want to give living out from my parents a try.” He turned hopeful eyes, flitting as they did between blue and green, to Peregrine, hoping that his Uncle wouldn’t sent him back home. “I promise that I’ll help out and I’ll apprentice here for Scout …or it’s equivalent. You won’t have to babysit me.” It wasn’t a very convincing sell but he was suddenly nervous and it was all he had to work with on short notice — never mind that he had, had plenty of time to rehearse on his way.