Adventure was out there, Rhaegal just knew it. Beyond the gallivanting journeys he and his brothers took off on, exploring every nook and cranny of their home that they could find. Occasionally they got themselves into a spot of trouble here and there, but nothing severe. Surely a prince should be off on grand expeditions, saving damsels in distress (and wooing them thereafter, of course) or rescuing those less fortunate from their dire situations. But distress and direness were far from regularities on the mountain, the haven where the boy was growing up. Rhaegal was proud of his lineage, and he was well aware of what big paw prints he had to fill. His family history was filled with heroic tales; saving wolves from fires and skyfalls alike. A great grandmother who never lost her seat as Queen of the mountain of old. His mother, who had defeated the maleficent creature known as Purge, and cleansed Moladion of her once and for all – side by side with the great rulers of Diveen. His was a noble heritage, and it was about time he lived up to it!

Well, he couldn’t very well do that by lazing around in the den now, could he? Not in the least. So earlier that day when the mother had brought home a meal for them, Rhaegal had eaten sparingly while his siblings filled their tummies to the brim. It didn’t take long for them to relax into a midday snooze, huddled up to Daenerys in the den. The son crowned in chocolate and charcoal strategically placed himself on the outside of the heap of bodies as they fell into post-meal slumber, and remained only long enough to ensure everyone was far off in dreamland. And then he made his escape, creeping quietly from the den and into the heat of the high autumn sun. Glancing over his shoulder, her listened attentively to make sure no one else had stirred and decided to follow him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the company of his siblings – in fact he never felt more complete than when the four of them played. But today was his day, and he couldn’t exactly make a name for himself if his brothers or sister were always in tow.

Realizing his newfound independence, Rhaegal quite literally jumped for joy, then set off at a brisk jog, up and around the mound of earth that created an overhanging entrance to their cave like dwelling. But from there it was down, down, down. At only nine months old, he felt like he knew Spirane as well as the back of his paw (though that was hardly the truth). It was time to go elsewhere, explore new places. So he pointedly made his way towards the river Aplos, descending familiar trails until they became not so familiar. He’d never been so far down the mountain; adventure with his brothers usually took him higher into the peaks rather than lower into the foothills. This was new! This was exciting!

Nose lowered towards the ground, he sniffed about, veering from the trail and exploring the rolling hills. Different trees grew down here than those which grew around the den site. Glancing up at a tall tree with white bark, he jumped up and placed his forepaws on the trunk, head cocking slightly to the side in curiosity. How very strange. But as his nostrils flared a strong scent washed over him, and although it was familiar, it was far more powerful than any marking he had ever scented before. Turning to the side he let his paws fall back to the earth and walked over to another, where the smell came from. Of course it was his mother’s scent, but the message it left in the dirt here was far more powerful than those found around the den. This must be the borders! Rhaegal suddenly realized. He’d found it, the edge of the world as he knew it! What else was out there?! Now was the time to find out!

Of course, that was when a foreign voice lifted on the autumn breeze, and just as Rhaegal lifted his paw to take his first step over the borders on his own, his head turned towards the source. He looked back at the great unknown. He’d only ever been outside the pack under adult supervision. This was his opportunity to seize the moment and just go. But he withdrew his paw, setting it back within Spirane’s boundary, and turned towards the stranger’s voice. Surely that would have woken Mom, and then she would realize he was gone, and if she didn’t seek him out herself then Jericho or someone else probably would. He huffed at his ruined plans, but decided there was a different prospective quest to seize here. An outsider was within the pack lands – and a lady by the sounds of it – and he was the nearest pack member. He set his mind to receiving this stranger – as a proper prince might do – and then took off to find her.

Rhaegal wasn’t exactly silent as he bounded along in search of the shewolf, criss crossing back and forth through brush and bramble until he reached the headwaters of the Aplos River. Her scent grew stronger there, and it only took him another minute or so before he found her. She stood just beyond the banks of the river, and Rhaegal approached her from the side rather than the front. At nine months old he barely stood as tall as the point of her flank, but he did his best to carry himself the way he had seen his mother when she acted businesslike. Despite everything he’d been taught – to respect your elders – he lifted his tail slightly and pricked his ears forward. But he could not help the way his tail slightly waved back and forth as he approached her. ”Good day, m’lady. Is everything alright?” He put on his best proper voice, though he allowed his mismatched duo toned eyes to wander over her, curious about her state and how she had come to be within his homeland.