The Grey

It was quiet here -- something he hadn't necessarily expected on a mountain. He had seen very little of Muirrin since her agreement to let him stay and help her form a pack, though her scent was strong upon the borders. She was around, and likely busy.. a thought that pleased him. She had seemed forthcoming, honest and confidant. He expected great things from Tuathe Dé.

Of course, there were others now, and in turn, the cinnamon male felt it his duty of sorts to find them and become acquainted. If he was going to give an honest trial of letting this place become his home, he would need to begin forming some roots.

The day was beautiful -- a light chill in the air swept past, reminding him the changing of seasons would happen soon. With the breeze lingered the fresher scent of another, decidedly male, and without hesitation, Schimitar prowled forward, his stance held neutral as he tracked down his fellow pack mate. The wolf was found within moments, sunning his ebony fur. Uttering a low 'wuff' to announce his presence, the cinnamon wolf began to close the distance between the two, his aqua eyes stoical as they regarded the other.