King Elk Forest the descent to hell is easy

@Mato :)

Trajan figures if he's going after the Mercenary trade, he might as well start now. The fledgling pack is small, with only Mato, Seabreeze and himself as members, and although worry stirs in the pit of the Roman's stomach, he has faith that they will find enough wolves eventually and the pack will exist. The only question is: if they did manage to claim the forest, how long would they be able to remain? It nags Trajan everyday — nothing ever stays, nothing ever remains. He wonders why everything has to change, why time even exists — there are moments in this universe which are too perfect and he hates the fact that when time flows, he cannot stay in those moments. He can only return to them in his memory, and even that fades eventually.
The philosopher sighs and shakes his head. It is too early in the morning for these thoughts, the sky is still dark, the only hint of morning was the bluish gray tint of the sky. It is also early to begin border patrols, he thinks, but a brief scent mark is good. It warns others that someone wishes to settle in this land, and to be cautious of where they put their paws. 
Trajan licks his lips, slinking through the shadows of the trees with careless ease. Sometimes, he pauses to lift his leg, or rub his paw absentmindedly into the bushes and the ground. Border duty is something he enjoys perhaps a little too much — it allows him time alone with his innermost thoughts and to gather energy for the day to come. It also gives him, on some occasions, the opportunity to test his skills against a lone wolf. Of course, the Roman welcomes company; he admits that sometimes, patrols get boring without a friend to do it with you.
But Mato and Seabreeze were probably asleep, or somewhere else, and he has no friends in these Wilds. A shiver runs down his spine and he tosses his head, pace increasing into a light jog. He does not wish to dwell to deeply in his thoughts, even though somehow, they are always inevitable.