Redsand Canyon No need for all that fuss

Reyson stood at the border, eyes alight, body alert. He paced the pack land borders, leaving his scent in their red sand. It was obsessive, all consuming. He was constantly at the borders, eyes never wavering, body wound tight like string.

He would leave on forays, he hadn't quite quenched the spirit of the wanderer he had gathered in his time on his own, but he only ever went with a few hours of the pack lands at most a day. And it was always somewhere to train his body, and quiet his soul.

He was not as full of tumultuous feelings and thoughts as he had been, but he was definitely no longer what he was. The last battle it had changed him and he needed to realize that, and do something about it, before he turned into a shell of his former self, or worse turn into a absolute dick.

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