></i></span>
An authoritative call broke the otherwise peaceful silence of the evening, the rapidly darkening overcast sky, drifted apart as if on some sort of unknown command, giving the platinum gladiator a glimpse as body paused of the setting sun, at the velveteen colors it painted brilliantly under the clouds that worked in protest to conceal such brilliancy with their abhorrent vagueness. Coincidences were not a concept that Raiden believed in. Likewise he was not so inherently driven upon a questionable faith that he believed everything was a sign. He believed in himself and little else. Despite this, his lack of belief in coincidences caused him to give great contemplation. The howl had been a beckoning, and while the territories of Northstar Vale stretched on invitingly to him, the scents of wolves - few in number though they were - trailed in a sort of haphazard scent border. They were not yet defined, inherently claiming the lands as taken yet there was a vibe of permanence in each scent trail that would lead him deeper into Northstar Vale. It was likely, and generally assumed by Raiden currently that these wolves would become a pack, that tonight they would stake their claim. He could be apart of that. A stranger with little else to go; and why attempt to work his way into a pre-established pack likely near their brim of wolves. They would have less of a reason to accept him with welcome arms than a pack that was just about to claim.
What had been the chances of him happening to be heading near Northstar Vale when the unknown caller’s howl had arisen to shatter the night? None, because coincidences did not exist to Raiden. It had been some form of ill twisted fate, or rather merciful fate that had led him to be exactly where he needed to be. The decision was easy for it was hardly a decision at all. Though Raiden did not know these wolves, did not know their intentions, their ideals he would join their ranks. There would be time to learn of those things later. Lurching forward, the platinum beastling pushed himself into a well paced trot. Trot slowed to a cautious pace as he neared the small gathering of wolves, their scents individualized until they began to mix into something new altogether. Movements were like premeditated slink, though he did not lower himself to the ground (and would not until his submission was required). Sea blue eyes studied the wolves already gathered, lingering longer by seconds upon the tall beast missing an eye with a strange marking branded into his skin, before they brushed over the tiny, multihued female beside him. Subtly they continued to move, taking in all that he could, not wanting to linger too long on any specific creature, though he did not desire to stare absently at a fixed point, either.
In silence, the gladiator waited.