Otter Creek of an austere ebon tide

I remember when I was a ninja-poster... and then I took an arrow to the knee. Just kidding. I got old and got a job. :C On another note, your post made me chuckle a little bit because I'm pretty sure Mordecai's upbringing would completely fall under what Rayder is envious of.

For reasons that Mordecai doubted he would find himself explaining at that point in time, the words spoken by the creme Plateau wolf hit home for him. He was taken with his own memories for a moment that he missed any signal that would have attempted to cue him in on the other's envy. It left him with a homesickness in his gut for a moment, but he was headstrong enough to will it away. It had been too long, and Mordecai far too gone to turn around from what he had been so resolute to do for the majority of his life.

But truth be told, Mordecai wasn't sure if he had answered the call he spoke of either. Sure, it could have been construed that in his very genetics was that nomadic presence that guided him. But it wasn't simply that way, Mordecai had made the decisions that had brought him right there today. He went to seize a prize that he hadn't just seen yet. “And there are those who don't, and aren't,” he said, again with the same nonchalant behavior as before. “Those things shape us, but we define who we are. At least that's what I was always told.” He wasn't nearly as rowdy as he had been in his youth. He didn't evade the thought of conforming as much as he did either, and maybe that was why he found himself there in the first place.