At four years of age, I was beginning to feel a bit more ambitious in my life. As a child I had had a single goal in life – to master the art of silence in the way my mother had. Of late, the urge to garner as much knowledge as possible had made me far more vocal – though my paws still treaded with a practiced quietness. I think that perhaps the urge to rise within the ranks of Glorall was something born into me, for many of my siblings seemed to share such a trait. Cersei had learned the ways of healing, but I knew that that was not where her true goals laid; I thought sometimes that perhaps my sister would eventually rise to Heir. Whether that was her intention or not, her multifaceted education would surely lend her the capability to do so. And then there was Praetor, my littermate brother, who had been so intelligent as to lend his ideas for a new rank – a master of all trades – to our father. I had little doubt that he would ascertain that rank in due time. Presently I was working towards rising to the title of Scholar, and perhaps with age I would consider the rank of Hector for myself. I was more interested in the gathering and sharing of knowledge than orchestrating peace between the packs, but it was still a possibility.

Soft eyes of lavender rested upon the Queen, a small smile forming on my lips at her words about potentially being given the opportunity to learn from me as I wished to learn of her. If Hector was something that I was considering for my future, I had to be sure to think before I spoke of my home, careful not to reveal any secrets that could somehow put our pack in danger if for some bizarre reason Rhae and her kin wished ill upon us. As far as I could tell, however, she seemed as keen as me. It might seem as if I trusted easily, but in truth I just knew that conversation could let you learn much about a wolf – from the way they spoke to the body language that accompanied their words. And to be mistrustful would only put up a dam and stem the flow of information. I gave a cordial nod of my head in reply to her suggestion that she, too, might learn something this day. Just as Aithne and I had shared tales of the prey in our respective homes, I hoped that Rhae and I would find some common interest to speak of.

It seemed as if our starting point would be to discuss the very landscape of our homes, and my tail swished back and forth threw the grass as Rhae delved into her well of knowledge. While Glorall was well reputed as the seaside back of Moladion, Asteraia could probably easily rival such a claim from what Rhae told me. A bay – what a sanctuary that must be for the young pups to safely swim within! I had not been allowed to swim in the channel between our shores and the island – let alone off the rocky southern coast – without supervision until I was two years old. And even then I knew the dangers. “Are the waters within the bay quite calm?” I inquired, curious at her mention of the strong current across the strait that gave way to the sea.

When she asked about my homeland my tail gave a thump against the ground, always happy to speak about Glorall and its many riches. “Along the eastern coast there is a river-like channel; it is very wide, and it separates our Island from the mainland. Those shores are sandy, soft and most lovely. But along our southern coast the shoreline is quite rocky, a dangerous place for those not accustomed to the southerly winds that rise during storm season.” Being raised my entire life within Glorall I had grown up learning to balance myself against such gales, and sometimes I would stand upon the rocks and let the wind and sea batter me, simply enjoying the lands I had come from.

“Does your pack enjoying swimming, then? Raised so close to the water I don’t think I could image a life without the smell of sea salt in my nose and the feel of sand and stone beneath my paws.” While I was well aware that Asteraia was still considered a relatively new pack in Moladion, I hoped that this would bridge the gap between speaking of terrain to perhaps discussing the way this pack functioned. From what I could tell of their Queen’s manner of speech and overall body language, I speculated that they were a rather close knit group of wolves, but further conversation would reveal whether such ideas were truth or not.