Moonspear You forgot something

All throughout the territory had the male been venturing, seeking to learn of every little nook and cranny that the mountain had to offer. It was something he’d done on numerous occasions in the past, really, and so he was rather accustomed to the amount of work that must be completed. To wander down each path several times over allowed for him to better commit everything to memory, thus giving him the necessary information to settle in with ease. As it stood, the mountain was to be his home, and so he felt it to be his responsibility to learn of it in every way possible.

Alastor had been lingering along the lower regions of the mountain, resting, when he’d heard his name called in the distance. At first, it had seemed as if the voice was not clear enough to be recognized, but no more than a moment later and all of the pieces had clicked together. The foreigner froze, rightfully hesitant, and then set off in the direction whence the calling had arisen. And as he’d drawn near enough, he’d spotted none other than the very same masked wolf that he’d thought himself to have lost. Questions lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he’d been unable to properly form any of them. “Zoratto,” he’d said in place of his queries. “You came.” He’d offered a wag of his tail, then asked, “Are you here to join?”