He padded softly toward the distinct border of the sea lands, pausing to give himself a breather for a moment. He had returned to Moladion late last night, bedding down in the comforting stillness of the Encora woodlands before finishing his trek today through the fields until the familiar briny scent of Glorall had carried him home. Home, the idea of this place being home was almost laughable. It had been years since he had called any place home, more prone to simply wandering where he will these last seasons. He had left the land with his mother at an age that was almost to young to remember anything about the place; yet as he padded back across these familiar landmarks the innate familiarity given to those born in these lands had come back to him. It was a birthright to know it all from border to border, sea to mountains and back again like the back of his paw.

It had taken days for him to decide to return, he had been struggling on his own recently. For years he had managed to scrape by but pretty was scarce outside these lands and in the end he had nowhere else to turn. The vaguest of hopes that his brother might still be around had carried him here and now, as he stood precariously close to the borders of the sea-land doubt consumed him. If Sin was no longer in the territory it had all been for naught. His brother was the steady type though, two years ago so proud of his accomplishment of rising in the warriors ranks here he couldn't image he would have left.

His white form padded silently along the border, dipping down to the south until he came to a large boulder. He jumped fluidly to its top, his lanky form well suited to such acts. He always moved with an almost feline grace which, when compounded with his athletic musculature had aided him greatly in his lonelier times. His dark blue eyes flashed as they sought the horizon, finally catching sight of the tumultuous sea crashing against the sandy shores. He signed, bringing himself to sit and wrapping his wiry tail around his small paws. This sight was home to him, even though he was just a pup when he had heard the constant crashing of the waves and smelled the salty air it still spoke to that instinctual homing beacon that called him back no matter what.

As he sat he attempted to groom himself, licking at the fur on his chest and forelegs. He knew better than to try and control the wildness that started below his ears and carried down his back. His hair had always been a wiry mess, always would be but at least he could arrange the manageable hair on his broad chest in a more pleasing fashion. On occasion he had hated his thick, coarse but on such a chilly fall day with the wind coming off of the water he was thankful for it. He considered calling out to gain anyone’s attention let alone Sinclairs but he didn’t need to go drawing unwanted attention. Someone would find him soon enough he was sure, these pack wolves were always particular about their boarders. As he waited his head was on a constant swivel, the penetrating quiet that his left ear brought him a constant reminder that he must always be wary of approach from that side. He had learned to live with the partial deafness over time, was able to hunt as well as any and simply deal but the idea of someone sneaking up from that side would always haunt him.