I am a two year old going on three years of age, a growing boy to be sure, lavender eyes peeking out of the den I shared with my mother who wanders often and does not always come home at night. My deep black fur is glossy and well groomed today as I had nothing better to do, it seems both of my parents will always allude me- though in different ways. It is unusually quiet today, it wants to pull me to investigate. The bandit like mask across my eyes was inherited from my dearest mother, though instead of being a silver to emulate hers my bandit mask is a combination of russet and silver fleckings, so it looks like teardrops and blood. Lavender eyes raise to the sky momentarily as if searching out my father and a faint smile twines over my lips. I wonder when mother will wander back home this time, if only father in the sky would tell me. I move forward at a graceful lope, my slender frame had naturally adapted into the grace of my mother and silence of my father. I shoot a curious look at my relative's den when I pass it, wondering what they think of my ever wandering mother.

I know of most everyone in our little pack and yet I don't know all of them, not nearly so much as my family. Lavender eyes flecked in icey blue and blood red scout my surroundings for a hint of someone, anyone to talk to and pass time with, or maybe I should just go out and search for prey. My smile falters a bit as I think of hunting. I haven't hunted alone very much, I usually go with my cousins or my mother.

I shake myself out gently and try to think on the brighter side of things. This means I can go wherever I like to unbothered, not stopped or hindered by mother or family or even pack, and yet the friendship I had forged with my cousins makes me long for their companionship.

I begin exploring the all too familiar grounds of Glorall more extensively than I have ever done, catching scents here and there of pack members, some more recent than others. For some reason I am reluctant to leave the borders of Glorall today. There is more than enough to do here in Glorall, much more than enough with what to keep myself entertained. The breeze tries and fails to penetrate my thick fur, and yet there must b some thinner furred wolves out there somewhere that must have shivered. A small barely noticeable grin curves over my jaws at the thought.