Redsand Canyon Maybe in time

Completely unaware of the pack’s first visitor, they wait. It doesn’t take long for the spotlight to be put on a dark figure that crawls up the walls of the canyon. He’s large, full of muscle and scars. He’s seen war and he’s lived it. It would be wise for the siblings to step carefully, especially in another’s grounds despite the familiarity the place holds for the two of them.

Alduin's blood red gaze eyes him carefully as he approaches, allowing his head to rise from his drooping position near his shoulders. 

This man introduces himself with a name and rank — both he finds unfamiliar. He even files through any of the names he remembers his father telling him and this one doesn’t come up. Neither does the packs name. He wonders if they’re fresh, but going by the strength of the border’s scent they’re not.

Alduin would offer a low hum of acknowledgment to the stranger male’s words. “Hail…” He’d greet back darkly, voice low and rumbling, his eyes always seeming feral no matter what he does.

He languidly moves closer to speak with him, but stops a comfortable distance away. The young hellhound looks to be a man on a mission, but at the moment not one of blood. Despite his desire for carnage, he knows his place at this man’s borders. And despite that still, he knows he must give information to get information.

“I am Malacath,” He hums lowly. “a wanderer from the west.” He’s technically not lying, but how would this man know otherwise? A dark tongue flicks out to rasp over his whiskers, taking the time to blink slowly and tilt his chin up to the other. “My partner and I search for a man — dark grey agouti with emerald eyes. He’s missing an ear. Have you seen him?” 

This man is completely made up, but again, how would he know? They merely came here to visit their childhood home, but with the surprise that’s shown itself to them, they plan on finding out who dares to thrive here now.