Being back was strange, and possibly a bad idea, but the years had passed and Mockingbird figured his crimes had gone forgotten. No one would know, right? Of what he had done and to whom. He had finished what he'd started here, and it felt good. He felt even. But he could not get back what should have been his. Gone, all gone. Long, long gone. Just like Liah and the pretty boy. Ashes, ashes.. He was cold. Everything around him felt cold and tasted bitter. Bones and dust and a stolen birthright that he could never get back. There was nothing but a need to be warm again.

Mockingbird moved into the lands at a jog, barely getting a look at anything he passed. He did not smell like male nor female; a curse he'd been born with. He was a looker with the black brindling over grey, but it was all for nothing. He had the parts that said male but he had always been walked away from in the past. It was the smell that others couldn't quite understand or get their heads around. The mockary of his birth, the very reason he had been named the way he had. Mockingbird was angry in a frozen kind of way. It was an old anger, but it lingered and wouldn't go away. But he had ideas, he had plans.

He wanted to prove to himself that even if he smelled funny to others and not clearly male, he still was. He could still function like one, could probably still please a female if given a chance. He wanted to take a mate this time around. At least that would soothe some part of the old ache within him. It was his goal, and he would keep looking until he found one that didn't mind how strange he might seem. He wasn't looking for love, but companionship and to be able to act like a male and feel a little wanted. He'd lost everything else, and this was the last try. The females here were different, and that was why he had decided he needed to return for this purpose. No one would remember him, no one would think on the fact that he had ever existed. A lost prince of a dead pack.