find it only amusing ; at the border

It was a feeling that started deep in his gut, a growing sensation that sparked and blotted out the blackness of his heart just for a mere moment, this odd urge that consumed him like wildfire and pushed him to go forth and explore, leave the motherland he had been conceived, birthed and trained in for a year of his life. The adolescent had learned to ignore the idiotic feelings that ruled his passionate species' minds and bodies, it was a technique that had come to him naturally, and the logic that failed so many had not yet failed him. Days earlier, mere sunrises, sunsets, moonrises, whatever it be ago, he had killed a coyote with his brethren, and they had howled and bayed over its corpse before tussling for whatever remains lay by their feet. By sheer intelligence he had made off with it whilst their fightings continued, and only after they had hopped up, bruised, bloodied and with tongues a-lolling had they noticed the lack of coyote, and the lack of him. Yet they had not suspected a thing, rather moving back and taking over the elk carcass the coyote, in its last moments of life, had been nipping at, to ravenously consume that.

The yearling had since grown bored of his sisters and thought to leave, even dismissing his only brother as a hindrance when offered a male companion for whatever journey he was to embark on. No, Napoleon had insisted, he did not need protection in the wide world, not even from his larger, minutely older and superior brother. His mind was enough, he knew that much, and the wolf had left his siblings for a solitary life, though even he understood that this existence was but a mere rift in between his old life and the new life he was aspiring to reach. He travelled for miles, miles, the wolf endurance and stamina giving him a lack of fatigue as he walked and ran, but by no means was he going to escape with full health. He had already been thin, worn and somewhat injured from whatever scraps he was forced into by his littermates, but the bear that had taken a grumpy swipe and the shrieking of distant rogue wolves fast approaching had kept him both on his toes and almost constantly bleeding out onto the floor, weeping crimson from several lacerations that he fought inwardly to ignore.

But yet, he had continued. Was there any point in ceasing his travels in hope of avoiding future squabbles? His coldness and speed did help even in dire situations, and Napoleon, whilst remorseless, had not initated himself in many fights in his journey. No, he was determined to finish his wandering without killing more than three non-preys, as he referred to larger, equal or only slightly smaller canines, felines or bears. Bovines, equines or rabbits were simply meals, they were even lesser individuals to him than the world he had grown up in.

Yet he had eventually neared wolf pack territory, and had smelled it in the pungent urine borders that lined the area ahead of him. He could hear the echoes of howls to claim the area he was paused upon, feel the quivering excitement in tensed muscles as those of his species headed out on hunts in their own lands. They were undoubtedly powerful, yes, but would they harm the yearling? Napoleon considered this for a long while, then took a seat settled on the border, his plumed tail sweeping the earth. This was the now, the present tense, not his dwelling that so often consumed his daily tasks. The now was important, and the now was his calling; to join a wolf pack? His loner instincts screamed run, but they came from his heart, and he not only ignored but made a point to rather violently dismiss them deep into the pits of his abyss-like mind. Would he call out? No, no, he'd be found soon enough, wolves' noses were acute and his scent would probably drift into the territory only to be picked up and approached at one point or another. He would only have to be somewhat patient.