Life had been an...interesting experience. He had spent his first winter or so in Taviora, before many factors drove him away, or perhaps, lured him away. Mother and father were good, wholesome creatures, he did know that. He had no issues with Vidar or Everchime, but one thing did rattle the family- the disappearance of his brother. He had searched far and wide for him. He had gone home, and slowly he had left due to his sheer curiosity. He had seen many things in his two or so years away from Moladion. He had encountered those so different than his own natural born family, but in the end, he was forced back home, and the reasons will always haunt him to this day.
But it was not something that was going to stop him. He moved through the early morning day. He had slept in the freelands last night, and the morning awoke with the peaks of Spirane in his visions. He had watched the peaks at sunset last night, the variety of colors on a winter day drawing his attentions and luring him closer. It had snowed a few days ago, and it still covered the ground softly. His brown paws were touched with snow and so was his dark fur. He was finally reaching the peaks, the ones that he remembered seeing as a pup. A grin touched his brown and black maw, but only very slightly.
His nose told him that they was not a land of the free. This was a land ruled. It was the smell of wolves, and wolves that are claiming it for their own. He lowered his head down to sniff it, yellow eyes strongly, and yet warily looking past it. He then remember that the peaks were home to a pack as a pup, how it was important in some way, somehow related to his lost brother. He breathed in, knowing that even he himself disappeared after a time. Perhaps his parents worried about him, but he was full grown now, large and strong. He had grown into a fully fleshed out adult, and yet he was not ready to go back to Taviora to see his family.
Instead, he wished to see the peaks. He wanted to see the world with his yellow eyes from high above, and he would find a way to do it. He would feel the cold thin air in his lungs and look across the world with hungry eyes. For now though, he must make his way there...without getting mauled. He had his own scars and marks. He had felt tooth and claw within his skin. He was not afraid of it, in fact, he had grown to fight and battle, but was not able to take on a whole pack needlessly.
He raised his dark muzzle to the sky, and sang a long and deep melody to the wolves of the mountain. It was a greeting, a wish to meet them and their leader. His tones were touched with a natural roughness, but boy could he sing in glorious baritone hues. He stood in the snow, touches of trees spotting the morning sun around him. He held a stoic visage, ears perked as he wondered if they would reply to him, or perhaps come visit him face to face.