Wandering is heavy on the old, too cold and demanding, but never too solitary. Maester Aro had taken the few weeks of lone travelling to expand his knowledge on the native plants, being from a place far away himself, but he could only find the same variety that he was acustomed to encounter. Towering coniferous were abundant, just like it was back in the Grove, and the ocassional moss carpet felt like home too. Nothing felt too strange, just the way the old maester expected.

Aro, once a member of the Silvanuk bloodline, had spent years devoted to Mears Grove, a northern pack, a strong pack, but misfortunate changes in leadership had marked the end of its ruling over the land, and that way, releasing Aro from his oath of loyalty to the pack. It wasn't with joy that Aro decided to leave the place and look for a new pack to join in an effort to counsel it, but he did it regardless, knowing that it was his duty, and that otherwise he would have died in the desolated Grove, starving, dehydrated, eaten by cougars or coyotes, in his sleep. He wouldn't have had a chance of survival awaiting for a new pack to claim the land he was bonded to, so he stranded, from the wolves, from the forest, and he walked for miles looking for a new home. A new pack to serve.

The days of spring had ended recently, and the weather that would seem static for the un-trained eye, was clearly changing acording to Aro's observations. The last thunderstorms of spring were usually the heaviest of the year, and the old man was about to face the most intimidating one that he had seen in years. Thunders pounded from the far north, shaking the earth with their loud roar, it was only a matter of time until Aro found himself in the middle of an almost-apocalyptic rain. He had a keen set of senses except for his weak sight, and they were sufficient to keep the old man going for another couple years. Aro knew that his time in the world was limited, but he still felt motivation to live, to serve properly, and he would keep doing it until his last breath. It was only a matter of finding the right pack.

Walking down south, the maester found himself facing yet another mountain, not bigger than the ones he'd confronted during his long journey, but there was something different about this one speciffically. Wolves inhabited the territory, and their markings were stronger with every step the old man took forward. He wanted to prevent from crossing into claimed land, knowing very well that it wouldn't make a good first impression, so he kept wandering around respecting the territory, awaiting to be noticed by a warden, or maybe even the leaders themselves. If this was the pack he was going to pledge his eternal loyalty to he would need them to know that he was a wise wolf, and one that could and would help them in every way he could manage, whether it was in diplomatic affairs, medicinal and healing help, or even spiritual counsel, he would be there to carry on the job.

Aro was patient, very patient, and even with the threat of a heavy storm thundering behind him Aro awaited for a warden to atttend him at the borders. He knew it would only be a matter of time until the pack noticed him, so he was free of concerns.

The maester knew that storms carried with them a strong aura which easily altered the mood of even the most clever of wolves, so it wasn't a surprise to find himself confronting a snappy wolf either. She seemed to have a high spot in the hierarchy of the pack for the way she carried herself, so the elder bowed respectfully at her arrival. He studied her with a quick look, just to get the highlights of her. She was a bulky female, dark brown hair sprinkled with silver, and her eyes of orange gold had a peculiar speck of turqoise. He could easily tell that the female was a very physical one, probably a fierce oponent in battles, which gave him the impression that he was about to approach a strong pack.

Aro looked over his shoulder at the grey clouds in the sky, and then again into the warden's eyes as if stating what his problem was. He was a man of few words, but he liked to pick them carefully. "I am afraid that this old body is no longer fit to confront this kind of storms as a lone wolf anymore..." he woofed with his somewhat raspy voice.