Things had been changing, in multitude and at a fast pace. The ashen boy whose sides were painted in heather was adapting fairly well, given the tumultuous past couple of weeks he’d had. Finally he had managed to make his way to Diveen to start his training to become Spirane’s best warrior. And fate would have it that the wolf tasked with his training would be none other than his imprint. He’d taken it in stride. Then there was the ever present estranged relationship between his father and brother than you could taste from a mile around. Sleekwing was not particularly fond of his pessimistic sibling, but he’d hunted alongside him without complaint. Alcide had faced another contender who wished to take his place as ruler of the mountain, and in wake of his victory Sleekwing had taken it upon himself to scout the area surrounding the pack lands and keep an eye out for others who wished to threaten their livelihood. Spirane lacked in numbers, but they made up for it in heart.

The idea of having to return to Diveen and lay tooth and claw against Malina to continue his training gave the young man mixed emotions. He enjoyed being in her presence more than he would admit, but he wanted to return with a significant show of improvement in his capabilities. To improve upon what she had taught him, he needed a sparring partner. And presently, no one who exceeded him in the skill of combat resided within Spirane aside from his father. And Alcide required time to rest and recover from the battle with Arlo. So, he tended to the duties of scouting and border patrol instead.

Moving to the southern base of the mountain, he ranged beyond the limitations of the pack land. The head waters of the Aplos River lay just within Spirane’s boundaries, and this was where Sleekwing begun his explorations. He’d traveled the length of the river before, just up to the point where Iromar’s borders were clearly marked. This was certainly a spot that could attract the braver of the lone wolves of Moladion. To rest upon the banks of the lazy river was to sandwich oneself directly between Spirane and Iromar’s borders. It was enough to make a cautious wolf more wary than he would normally be. Sleekwing, however, jogged along the riverside at an easy pace. His stature spoke of his comfort in the area, head level with his body, movement fluid and relaxed, ears pricked forward, and tail streaming out behind him.

The beast’s blue eyes caught sight of the other gray creature nestled in the tall grasses along the river bank only just before he came upon him. Sleek very well could have just kept moving and paid the other wolf no mind, but that was not what he was here for. Not to mention that just wasn’t the kind of guy he was. So instead, he slowed his trot to a walk and offered low bark in greeting. Remaining outside of the tallest of the grass where the other wolf rested, he wagged his tail to show his mood was sociable before taking a seat and letting the appendage lie idly on the ground. “’lo there,” he said, “Name’s Sleekwing.” He offered his name, hoping the smaller male was receptive to conversation. The wing striped man was simply curious to find out who called the place between the mountain and the moors home.