Nihil Timeo! I Fear Nothing!

That had become his most treasured statement during the time he spent away. He had told his father on a crisp autumn's eve that he wanted to go on a journey. That he felt, in his heart of hearts, that to become a sojourner was to become a true man in his spirit. In Taviora he lacked for nothing yet Vortigern had said, calmly, that sometimes one must first learn how to thirst before they can appreciate what such a thing means. Zaphkiel had been rather awed by his son's statement and after nodding sagely, he had let him go on his way. The boy knew that his father felt pride in his litter but also a sense of loss for they were growing fast. It had been over a year since he had taken off and what a year it had been.

He had fallen in with a travelled group of renegades outside of Molodian and they had fallen into liturgies, teaching him various rites and passages. They were a religious group, surprisingly, and found that the stars upon his forehead were a sign of glory. They had called him the Raven Prince once when he had called to him a group of ravens with the mere timbre of his song. It didn't feel all that special then yet Vortigern had realized just how close his connection with the world's inhabitants were and how awed he was in the eyes of strangers.

As a mark of valor he had led them into a 'fierce' battle against another loner pack that had decided to take up residency in their unofficial spot and come out victorious, albeit with a few wounds. They had healed magnificently and without scarring, to which he hadn't been overly upset about, only a bit disappointed. Overall his adventure had been a successful one and he had eventually, amid farewells, made his way back towards Molodian as deep winter began to set in.

Travelling in the snow was a difficult process yet he enjoyed the way it strained his muscular figure, driving him to plant his paws in deeper and jolt just a bit more forward. Orange eyes survey the forest as he nears, nostrils widening to catch the scent of pines and spruce and the scent of home. With a bark of sudden exultation Vortigern leaps forward, flying haphazardly through the snow and leaving a trail of winter-storm behind him. "Ego vos requireris" he says in a breathless voice, talking to the forest, the way it embraces him as he rushes headlong.