It had been several days since Saga had set out from Dragonwatchers with his mission and Koontz’ direction in his mind. The mission itself was simple enough: offer a note of peace to the pack that he found. Simple, yet so crucial and within itself so intricately complex. Complex because Saga understood how fragile words were. If he messed up, it could cost him, not just with the pack whose borders were becoming notably stronger as Saga’s tall, broad, raven hued body slipped along the morning shadows, nearing the looming mountain ahead at a thoughtful pace, but with Dragonwatchers as well. It was a pressure that Saga felt weighing heavily as if he were bound down by chains. The pressure was even worse, likely, because he was so new to Dragonwatchers and despite his alien-ness to the pack Koontz had trusted him enough to ask the favor of him. He did not wish to fail her, or the ‘Watchers.

It was a little warmer than most mornings had been, a slight veil of fog covering the land, though it was not very dense and was easily see through. Likely, it would burn off soon enough. Pupils narrowed slightly within their pools of fiery, liquid gold for a few seconds as he squinted up at the towering heights of the mountain as he slowed to a stop, having more than a polite distance between the pack’s scent borders and his body. Raven hued muzzle lowered to the earthen floor to inhale at the scents, noting that the borders were fairly fresh, judging that he had hit his mark. Saga inhaled deeply as he kept himself at a neutral, non-threatening posture, letting the autumn air expel from his lungs in a slightly visible furl of breath. He was as prepared as he was ever going to be. He had his mission, he’d found a pack, he knew what words he was supposed to deliver, and had the bases as covered as they were likely going to get.

Without further trepidation, Saga tipped his head back and let out a call for a leader, alerting someone of his presence and that he’d like to talk.