There was no possible way for him to know of the terrors currently befalling his kin.

Had the boy known, he would have been just beside her, protecting her, doing his duty and following the strings that pulled at his heart and soul. But he didn't know. He wasn't there. But Cae did know that something was wrong. Something was wrong but he didn't know what. It could, or could not have anything to do with his family, and the one male was torn two ways. A part of him wanted to remain in silence and peace among the pools as he often did, crossing the fields from their den in the woodlands to enjoy the simple magic of the place.

It had become a favourite spot for the young wolf of creme, cinnamon and chocolate. There was a stillness here that didn't exist other places- and there was even his spot. His special place. It couldn't exactly be called a cave, but it was an overhang of sorts that was more than enough to keep most of the elements at bay. It proved its use today as there was minimal snow drift in the small crevice beneath. The young loner was well aware of the dangers of being out and about alone as he was, just as he was aware of the rather large gathering of wolves not too far away. There weren't too many others there his age, being young as he was- but others in general didn't seem to draw and attract him as it did for others.

From birth, Cae had always been a solitary creature and he didn't know if this would ever truly change. He does speak, though he speaks rarely and quietly when so. His words are particular, singularly chosen and given the utmost thought. There is more than a little brain power behind his mismatched gaze, the one that spoke eons to those it fell upon. It was a tact of his- speaking more with his looks and his expression than with his voice. Call him old fashioned, or just call him different. Call him Cae, the first born son of a fated and intwined pair, one of three children and something cherished and coveted. To think that anything bad could ever happen was an after thought, though it was always there. If he had known, he would have been there, and he would not be slipping in his small area to enjoy the silence and warmth.

It was simple chance that he did for when his creme and chocolate russet dusted tail followed his frame, the wind was quick to pick up and a sudden gust of wind brought the first few sheets of fresh snow down. He might get snowed in this day, and even if so, he was content in his ignorance and his silence and his warmth. He was young and so allowed to enjoy his innocence if but for a moment longer.