Dawnlark Plains daybreak

this post is complete fluff & filler. i got carried away; oops. :0

He had left the borders of the Keep earlier in the morning, before the sun had risen, his purpose to track some herds. The Dawnlark Plains did not touch the borders of Marauder's Keep but it was close enough to lead a small hunting party to, at the very least. The assassin had cut through the Willows and side stepped Felltree Marsh, not particularly welcoming of the mud that mostly dominated that particular territory. Buchanan had considered letting Banner know he was stepping out of the territory for a few hours, maybe half the day but then decided against it. He trusted that she (and by extension Stark) knew he would return: after all, he did not intend to make his trip more than half a day. Buchanan was not a fickle creature by any means of the word; The Officer had made sure of that.

As he followed the herd's scent trail his mind began to wonder from the aroma of the deer herd, from the give and take of his muscles as he moved at a even pace. As he followed the scent with partial absent mindedness — rare for the assassin who could focus upon missions (if one could even consider something self deduced a mission) with singularity fairly easily — he struggled with it this morning and did not try to compartmentalize or fight it. He let his thoughts wander in a reflective manner, allowed himself the time to process it all.

Gamma. They — Stark and by extension, Banner — had promoted him to Gamma. Buchanan was familiar enough with the hierarchy of a pack to understand that it was not only a high rank, it was the highest rank of the subordinate tiers. Him. A Gamma. He hadn't given his ranks in the pack since Stark welcomed him in all that much consideration. He'd been busy focusing his time and attentions upon his skills, Banner and being an asset to the pack. Climbing the hierarchy ladder had not been a priority, neither had it been an ambition. While he was far from a lazy beast, the dark wraith was not ambitious. He did not strive for the top as he knew some wolves did. It had never mattered in his personal interests. It mattered in that they were the wolves that issued and enforced the rules and missions. They were the most important, even. Yet, he associated their roles to that of The Officer's. Buchanan had always been an Omega. He was subservient, as he'd been for years. And he was so good at being just another peon. Years of being The Officer's weapon and punching bag had crushed any boyhood dreams and aspirations until nothing existed beyond the next mission and pleasing his “Alpha”. That was easy. That was what he knew. It was comfortable for him.

Hell, he had been uncomfortable when Silas had given him a posture lower than neutral. A boy! Had made him uncomfortable with acknowledging what Buchanan hadn't really paid much mind to: that the dark wraith was of a higher rank than him. Looking back upon it: his promotions had not been subtle but rather taken in giant leaps and bounds. He had climbed the ladder fast. No doubt, there were logical reasons behind his quick climb to Gamma. Perhaps he had even earned it, he considered. He took a deep breath and turned his thoughts from the topic. Ranks fluctuated all the time; and for the sake of not wanting to come across as ungrateful he shrugged it off.

A light dusting of snow crunched under his paws as he navigated through the barren plains, causing him to look around him with perplexity. Mercurial gaze swept over the territory as far as his eyes could see, as it dawned on him that he'd lost the scent trail, wrapped up in his thoughts as he'd been and suddenly found himself in winter in the middle of summer. It made sense, of course, that the northern territories were cold and harsh but he was surprised to find it started so close to his home. Nevertheless, he trudged on, keeping a keen eye open for tracks and ears attentive for sounds not wanting to return to the Keep without something.