She hadn’t forgotten him - that king of the seas and his sharp nature. Grimoire was not idle in her investigations, and so had finally discovered the way to test who he was. And by who, she didn’t mean his title or his name. She wanted to test the mettle of his soul. What tortures could he take? And could she break him? Already, she was captivated by the danger in his eyes, and now, she wanted to see what type of danger it was - violent, self destructive, or manipulative? Her tail waved at the questions in her mind as she stepped lightly over an ungrounded root.

The border of Glorall was the most subtle one she’d come across. It was overshadowed by the salt of the sea. Funny, as it happened, it was the one she was compelled to halt at for the intension it was placed. To respect the pack land, or rather, this alpha. Or at least, to appear so. Grimoire’s coarse fur ruffled around her scruff with enthusiasm. Her metallic eyes watched the light fall off the leaves of the forest surround her for a moment, attempting to determine which shadow she liked the look of best. She decided the fern’s black reflection was her favorite - it was speckled and seemed to serrate the air into a brindled pattern.

Grimoire tilted her head backwards after her observations, and chimed like a morning lark,

”Morning, Glorall! Won’t you come to meet me?”