Wren awoke not quite sure where he was at first. The trees stared back. Oh, right. He was in Taviora. His home. Though his mind quickly captured back the details of how he came to be here, it still fascinated him that he was. Dexter had spoken for him when he had first entered the pack. It was a bittersweet memory, for he could not speak for himself. Perhaps today he will go for a stroll out towards the Woodlands, secure in the knowledge he can come back. Or more to reassure himself he can come back, because he is not secure.
He gets up, stretching leisurely. His athletic build is handsome, though his low self esteem seems to hide that from those who might otherwise be interested, despite his lack of words. The sun shines, lighting his brown coat with a gentle glow though the heat would soon grow to burn, considering the length of his fur and the month of summer. It is a non issue now, as a cool breeze cuts through the early morning air.
He picks up an easy, ground covering pace, crossing the territory border. He has not told anyone he is going, but it would be difficult to convey his intentions even if he took the time to seek out a pack member. Wren will come back, as silently as he has gone, as silently as he does anything. Soon he is in the monotonous trees of the Enocra woodland.
|