Zaqar could barely hide his disdain as he led the way out of Glorall. Did Andras not realize that he was so very near adulthood? This task of taking puppies from another pack to play was going to be difficult for one reason: Zaqar did not play. He had not had siblings of his own age to play with, and as a result he kept a very serious demeanor. Only in games of thought and cunning did he take any interest, such as when he and Locke had stalked their brother in the crags. Hopefully these Glorall pups were not as mindless as so many of the youth he had seen wandering about the freelands.

As he reached the first rocks of the crags, Zaqar glanced quickly over his shoulder. He did not immediately see the three individuals who had decided to come with him, but he was certain they had followed. Rather than waiting outside, he stepped onto a narrow path, the silken black fur on his sides brushing softly against the boulders beside him as his russet paws navigated the rough landscape. His recent time spent here during the Iromar flood had given him quite a fondness for the place. The cool dryness of the rocks on his pads was a welcome reprieve from the soggy earth of his home.

Reaching a relatively clear opening, he turned and sat with his tail curled neatly over his paws, silently awaiting the arrival of his guests.