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The Roman had wandered the wilds for sometime now, he knew his brother was here from one of his former packmates and he knew he should be still here somewhere. But winter was coming and however thick his coat was, it wouldn't help when starvation occurred and the yearling was not going to be reduced to cannibalism yet. He knew he had to find a pack to stay in for now, until he found his brother, but that would just mean he had to do extra duties for the pack and everything that was expected of him, and that would just slow down the search. But common sense overruled and with a faint inaudible sigh, he began moving forward, he knew that soon enough there would be a pack.
And so the journey began, it wasn't long before the faintest trace of a pack scent touched his nostrils. Scipio quickened his pace, his mind wandering, wondering if perhaps the gods had been especially nice to him and led him to his brother's pack. But the hope slowly died away as he moved towards the scent line, there was no trace of his brother's scent here, and besides he doubted Hadrian would even settle in a place like this. He liked green valleys, somewhere near mountains. He loved open spaces more than anything else in the world.
The longing and pain began expanding in his chest and he nearly choked as the emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but a moment later, he managed to grasp control of it again. Making sure he was a respectable distance away from the borders, he lifted his head into the air and howled a melodic song, alerting the leaders of this pack that he was here. When the song was over, the halfbreed did not sit down, but remained standing. Bright sea green eyes gazing at the border line, hoping to see the form of a wolf soon. Expression impassive and eyes cold and empty except for the Angelus Mortis glint, he waited, impatience creeping up at him but he shoved it aside. His father's teachings finally came to use, too bad he couldn't teach it in a nicer, less brutal manner.