Dragoncrest Cliffs Final destination.

Time had passed since Artaax had killed the stranger at the borders of Drageda. He'd had time to consider more what he had done, and though he looked back on it now without guilt or remorse, he was still quite hopeful that he never had to take another life again. It had taken some internal coaxing to get him to return to the borders, but he was not one to be held at bay by fear. So, though anxiety churned in his belly, the boy prowled the borders - determined to continue to uphold the title he had been given.

His legs stiffened when during his border-marking, he heard voices. His heart began to pound in his chest as the scent of some unknown wolf whispered into his nostrils. His hackles rose as he strode forward through the brush, but his furious pace softened when he spotted a familiar face, staring down the unfamiliar. He hesitated only a moment before stepping towards the pair and angling himself at Furi's side, standing as tall and broad as he could as he stared down the stranger - not a difficult feat these days, truth be told. He had nothing to add to the words his packmate had spoke already, so he remained the silent bodyguard, supporting her wordlessly with his presence.