Dawnlark Plains daybreak

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The assassin moved slower now, his coat not yet thickened for the winter months though he knew that soon, with autumn upon them, he would began shedding his winter coat and the heavier, coarser winter coat would grow in. He was unaccustomed to this level of chill and considering it had been humid and warm when he'd left Marauder's Keep the climate change of the Dawnlark Plains to be startling. His eyes scanned the snow that stretched out before him, though immediately could not pick out any tracks though they had to have gone this way. Even in the absent way he'd been tracking them — rather uncommon for the dark wraith — he could not have gotten so far off course that he wasn't even near the herd. His breath left his parted lips in a white furl of steam where it met the cool air, his ears slicking back before they perked again.

He thought, in the far off distance, he heard the distinct click of their joints as they walked, or no grazed. It wasn't a continuous noise, a click here and there as their weight shifted. It was as Buchanan altered his course and began to make his way in the idle herd's direction that he heard the footfalls of another approaching him. Heavy footfalls, but as to what it belonged to he did not immediate know as she was down wind of him. His hackles bristled as he slipped easily into his role as the hyper-vigilant assassin (not that he ever stopped being hyper-vigilant, mind). As the female came into view, almost camouflaged by the snow blanketed around them, his eyes followed her, moving. He was not a social beast by any stretch of the imagination. He had made a very clear effort to be sociable towards the wolves of the Keep though it did not come as easily to him as socializing with Banner, admittedly, but strangers were still strangers. And as she was not of the Keep he felt no obligation to socialize lest she initiated it.

The Officer's teachings would never go away, and he could try to fool himself into thinking that he could be “cured” but how quickly he went from making efforts to socialize with his pack mates to being the hostile, prickly, and unsociable assassin towards strangers proved a very strong point. Maybe, the truth was, he didn't want to completely change. He hadn't killed since The Officer and he thoroughly enjoyed being able to use his very sharp and specific skills towards philanthropist work but wolves outside of the Keep didn't mean anything to him and he saw no reason to let them behind his barbed wire, electric, cement wall.

Though Buchanan made no effort to announce himself to her, he figured it was only a matter of time until she noticed him. He stood out like a sore thumb in this monochrome landscape.