Ripper had not seen his mother in days, perhaps even weeks. Her move from the den where he and Sekhmet had been born to the seaside pack territory had forced him to lead a less complacent life. By way of scavenging or sudden surprise attacks on small prey animals, he had begun finding his own meals. He was not made for the longer chases needed to take down ungulates, his ever growing bulk constantly slowing him down. That and his general preference towards doing nothing to doing...anything, lent to a rather sedentary lifestyle. Still, he somehow managed to consume enough prey, and expend a small enough amount of energy, to maintain his bulky weight.

Despite his contentment in his languid lifestyle, he did find himself growing somewhat lonely. Ever since he had met Masque, he had felt a desire to seek her out and fill his hours with simply observing her everyday tendencies. Wolf-watching in the valley, a favored past-time of Ripper's, often led to him wonder where Masque was and what she was doing. He rolled onto his side, pawing at his face as if he might be able to physically brush away the thoughts. But it was no use. Huffing to himself, he rolled back onto his sternum and lifted off the ground. Maybe his mother would be able to help him. And so he set off towards the stringently marked borders of Glorall, where for whatever reason Enya had decided to have her new litter.

Packs were not a concept that Ripper had given much thought in his lifetime. Enya had given him and Sekhmet a basic education regarding them - to steer clear, or to be wary of being caught trespassing. But the bulk of Ripper's wolf watching had been loners, or pairs of wolves, so he did not fully comprehend the point of a pack. He understood that when a pair of wolves hunted together, they were more likely to succeed than a lone wolf, but what need did a wolf have for more than one or two partners with which to hunt? After the party where he'd met Masque, he'd followed Sekhmet back to the plains that she often frequented. He was surprised to find that the borders no longer reeked of the decaying stench of old age that he'd always found repugnant on Sekhmet's fur when she came from there, and his interest was piqued. But whether he would return there again remained to be seen.

For now he came to the borders of Glorall, lowering his head to sniff at the pungent aroma that marked the boundaries. Though his mother's lessons about trespassing in pack lands echoed in the back of his mind, he also didn't really give a damn about them. He scratched once at the sandy soil before lifting his head and proceeding forward. He'd followed his mother's trail here once before and had a general idea of where her den was. He kept his head even with his back and he jogged along the unfamiliar paths, sniffing about in search of Enya's scent. When he came upon the den, he paused a short distance away, ears pitched forward as he heard the quiet, sharp mewls of puppies. So, he and Sekhmet had siblings?

Ripper came to the den's mouth and called softly to his mother, letting her know he was there, but not so much asking for permission to enter. He let himself be known, and then he crawled down into the den, curious about the mewling sounds coming from within. Never having seen newborn pups before, he glanced at his mother, then down at the tiny bodies at her belly. His head cocked to the side, intrigued. As he so often did, he simply watched them for a time. After a while, he looked back to Enya. "Do you want me to get Him? Or keep Him away?"