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The boy of shadows had waited long enough, he could only hope his former wife still loved him enough, loved their pups enough to talk to Scimitar. Because nothing could be achieved if they refused to talk, he could only pray to the gods that they would grant the burly male and himself some patience as they (hopefully) talked. Shadow had prayed to the gods that night, begging them to make it work, to prove that the fates and the gods were not as cruel, merciless and ruthless as they made themselves to be. I bear your mark, shining father, a mark I know no normal wolf can have before they shrivel and die. I live, great king, grant me patience and grant my wishes, I pray to you and all the gods. If I am truly your descendant, great three, Neptune, Jupiter, Pluto, then I beg you to grant me this. He took a deep breath then continued. I, Hadrian Nox Shadow Angelus Mortis, descendant of Pluto, Jupiter and Neptune, faithful servant of the gods of Olympus, Imperator of the first Legion of Rome, Noctisardor Bypass. Child of Rome. I have served you since I was born, grant me this one wish. And with his great silver crown lowered, he finished his prayer.
Shadow gazed into the clear water of the river, his own reflection staring back. No blood leaked out of his wounds now, though they glowed crimson against his pale platinum fur. The talons dug deep into his flesh and when all the blood vanished, he could see the mark that the king gave him resembled a bolt of lightning, the ones his mother drew on the ground as she told him stories of the gods. Its the symbol of your ancestor, little one, he remembered her soft voice and wondered if his own kids would ever know the stories of Rome, or just the stories of Paar's world? At least they would have something he never had, something hopefully Swiftcurrent Creek would be able to offer them, a home, a loving family. Pain struck at his heart, strong and unyielding was his love to his wife and unborn children, afraid he would not be able to ever see them but glad they would have a better life than he had. Anger at Paarthurnax, that she could run away with his and her children, knowing he might never see them, and yet be happy, reunited with her friends, their litter probably raised with Bazi and Scimitar as their other parents. The Roman would make sure that would never happen, not while he still roamed here on the living's land.
Tossing away his angry thoughts, for that would not help when he attempted to talk 'peacefully' with Scimitar. Shadow sighed, rose to his full height and made his way to the borders of the Creek. A respectable distance away from the borders, he began pacing, wondering if he should howl for the wolf or just wait for him to patrol his lands. A responsible leader always kept his pack safe first. Emotions whirled underneath the Roman's stoic mask and he continued pacing, deciding to wait and see if Scimitar would approach.