He moved with his red brother at his side, their deafening silence engulfing all that lay in their path. There had been a call; one vastly different than all the other wolves of Moladion, and it had called to something inside of him. Inside them both, for truly Kronos and Cuirass were more similar than any Satanican sibling pairs before them. And each took heavily after their parents and heritage in their own particular way. He did not know who it was that had called, only that he was answering it in his own signature manner. Neither son had been with their sire and dam for some time now, and even with the approach of their first Winter they are often away rather than near. Both are more than self sufficient, and both are firmly confident in themselves. They are young yet, but they move with a fluidity that comes with having been created and born together. Satanican siblings have always shared a most special bond, and the brothers are no different. They exceed their ancestors if anything, and far surpass anything they could ever have hope for.

Soon enough, wide and expansive grasslands are coming into view, as are a small trio of wolves. He knows one of them, one of the small children who is red white and black. She is the girl from the Grotto, the one he had shared his meal with before disappearing from. More often than not, Kronos was a ghost of Moladion, slipping away unseen and undetected by most others. He had not only learned such ways from his dam and sire, as he had in fact inherited a gene that kept him far away from others of his kind. His kind held little to no purpose for him, beside them being main courses for those like him. But he continues on toward the wolves, aware of one more- this one a male- lurking in whatever shadow he could find. But the brothers are not weary, nor do they have reason to fear. They are small and hardly close to even half their full grown size, but they know themselves and they know other wolves. Kronos had spent minimal time with the girl, but he had seen the way she had moved, seen the hunger in her eyes. They do not greet when they finally near, stopping a good fifteen feet away.

The boys watch them closely, his what could be considered a brilliant aquamarine while his brothers is pristine ice just like Eric's. Together they stand, side by side, not bothering to give their voices or anything other than their presence. These wolves were the reason they were here, but that hardly warranted respect for them. And as it were, they had remained on the no mans side of the border, awaiting for something that might warrant a decision to venture further. If such a thing were to even happen at all.