Blacktail Deer Plateau Roman cavalry choirs are singing

*casually drops in*

He had carried himself over so many mountains while fleeing the Teekon Wilds that he had failed to recognize this range as the one he'd sworn to leave to the dust. As fate would have it, his paws had carried him back, but for the aim of returning to his kin in the Blackwood Vale. Though the sundry man stopped himself from thinking of Duskfire, the fact he was a coward was not lost on him. If his life accounted for anything, it was to play the poster-child of a fool. He hadn't found his way in the world, and the only thing that moved him now was that his father might have the mercy to take him back.

The scent of pack swelled around him, but Malachi knew he was still on neutral ground. In prudence he kept enough distance between himself and the land where the markers lay, though he knew there was nothing a pack could do to him that he didn't already deserve, regardless of his acts toward them. The sharp incline of the mountainside came into greater clarity, and Malachi took brief note of another wolf - large and stony grey - staring in the same direction as he. Malachi didn't hesitate, as he would have once done. Tired eyes turned from his company back to the mountain and Malachi remained on course, sticking to his land and assuming the pack wolf would do the same. It was the mountain the loner was interested in, and though his paws occasionally dragged in a firm plea to rest, Malachi would not let himself stop until he had crossed.