Slowly but surely, the eldest son of Rhae and Iblis is growing into himself. It has taken him perhaps a few years longer than his siblings, but he is quite content in that. Never has he been in a rush, and never will be. Like this day- the now fully grown but young wolf picks his way decidedly down from the mountain slopes. He travels to the South, to the Moladion packland of swamps and bogs. Of moors that would sooner squelch and suck your feet in and keep them forever then let you pass by unharmed. All wolves had heard stories of the place, but seldom did they venture in or out. The demons that inhabited the area were most if not all unkind, and any wise wolf would stay away. But to a wolf that had been born here, demon or not, and to a wolf that had a task in mind- he was confident in his actions as he moved. It did not take his medium sized paws long to find the marshes and the wetland, familiar scents and tastes remdinding him of his past.

It had been against their will, but a long time ago, the small family that Iblis and Rhae once had started was taken unwillingly and deep within the heart of the swamps. There, his Mother had given birth to his sister and him, taken care of them, and started teaching them to learn and grow. Perhaps that was why the oldest children were no longer with their family, and the rest had been. Lucero had been born in Taviora. Isolde and Viserys had been born in Diveen. Gaia and himself had not been so fortunate, though, those would be his parents words. He himself, well.. was he not the one on the border of the swamps in these very moments? While it was true that the pack he now called home, Spirane, was allies with Iromar- it was also true that his Father and Mother, and now all of Asteraia were known enemies of the demons. That's how they each felt, anyway. Cae himself did not care for such politics, but then, his blood might just very well involve him regardless.

Mismatched eyes; the left a sheer and deep teal, the right a rich dark mahogeny, glance about his dense surroundings. Although it is Winter, and there is snow here- the marshes do not freeze like the rest of water in Moladion. Here, due to the constant humidity and below sea level factor, the marshes remained mostly unfrozen. Cold, but unfrozen. It is all too familiar, and yet foriegn to him. It had been years and years since he had been to this place, but he remembers it well. He wonders if the wolves will know him within, if they might know part of his scent- the part that holds his Father, and if they might find him enemy. But, if anything, he smells of the Mountain and it's Protector, and he did not fear for his safety. Demons were volatile creatures by nature, but he was confident and held his ground, waiting for the one that might find him upon the border.