Being given a purpose had bolstered Scion's once-flagging morale. Without an assignment to carry out, he had felt as if he was not of any use to this new alpha. He had patrolled the territory in never-ending, almost desperate loops, he had collected small prey items for the king and anyone who wished to eat them, and he had tried to meet with new comers when they appeared, but even so he had felt terribly useless. Uselessness made him feel expendable. Being expendable made him feel, both consciously and unconsciously, scared. This fear had twisted and coiled like a snake in the pit of his belly, increasing the paranoia of his thoughts and driving him to a strange, near bi-polar state. He plunged between maniac activity and swirling melancholy, tossed by his turbulent emotions like a ship on a stormy ocean.

When Summer had come to him, Scion had been even tenser than usual, barely restraining himself from flinching at each sudden movement that the alpha made. He had thought that he was to be disciplined for his recent failures, or that somehow the lord had heard of his past and was finally - and rightfully - coming to exile him from the lands. When Summer had spoken instead, asking him to help train the vargs of Bright Moon in the art of battle, he had been immensely relieved. The relief was not only situational. It went deeper than that, smoothing the raging tempest that had been building within his chest and replacing it with a calm sense of duty. In his time in Bright Moon so far, he had not been utilized properly as a tool, and now he would be. To be given a chance to be valuable to the pack was something that Scion was immensely grateful for.

Not long after the lord's order had been issued to him, the wraith-like canine had set out to prepare for the gathering. He trotted through the forest, ducking betwixt and between the towering forms of the trees with a confident surety toward a large clearing that he knows will suit his purposes well. He does not travel for long before he has arrived in the arena. He gives the grassy space a scan with eyes the colour of emerald, making sure that there are no uncharted hazards. It would not do for one of the warriors of Bright Moon to be injured while under his tutelage. Luckily, he finds nothing more dangerous than a few sharp sticks in the long grass, which he removes daintily. That being finished, he strides to the center of the clearing where he stands. His maw opens, revealing a hint of sharp, pearly white teeth as he inhales deeply. His head tilts back, toward the clear blue sky, and he allows a single note to issue forth from his throat, politely calling for the wolves involved to assemble.