Indeed, the wolves of the land were most unusual - they often went against all he knew but they had been fascinating at least. The small girl he had met had been marked most peculiarly and had acted quite unlike the other younglings he was used to; they bred them differently in the South, it seemed. It was much to consider and note but alas, the exploration of the land was far more important than the exploration of the natives at that point. He, himself, would have stood out like a sore thumb among the others of his species in Moladion - he was not as long as many were, his back shorter and his chest broader. To put it simply, he was built like a brick house - broad, sturdy and balanced atop thickly boned limbs. His fur, too, was much thicker than needed, adding even more bulk to his already large frame - even his skull was broad, his ears wide but short in height. He'd been born in the cold and mountains - generation upon generation perfecting themselves to such a climate. With the slow decline of winter, he had begun to feel the heat and spent much of his precious time grooming out large chunks of his undercoat in an effort to stay somewhat cooler. Honestly, he looked just a little disheveled.

There was, however, one great curiosity that stood out to him among the rubble and ruin of the Western Crater - somewhere by the riverside was a large cluster of wolves. Each one such a strange, unique colour! He could hardly keep his mind focused on his task at hand and with some hesitation, he had taken it upon himself to approach the large group, his hefty form all too obvious even when he attempted to stay somewhat hidden. It was not nerves but caution for where there were others, there could often be danger; many were young, though, and few seemed to fixate upon others and leave as couples or groups. It was... odd, fascinating, something almost exciting to watch from behind his hideout of stone and bramble.