He moved across Moladion in a furor, with no true sense of direction and lacking all intent and purpose that he'd had before meeting the flame-coated female in the forest. The interaction had sent his mind into a spiral, calling up memories of the masked shewolf who had taken him away from these lands so long ago. Teeth gnashed against one another, against the bark of trees, upon empty air. He'd not had flashbacks in many moons, and their sudden reappearance had thrown him off even more so than the bonding with the woman of the woods. He always seemed to circle back there, despite intentions to continue south and test his newest brood of children.

When he finally did come upon the borders of the seaside pack that he knew harbored his chosen mate, he did not even hesitate before moving across them in search of her. In his mind she was his, and that this pack kept her within its invisible boundaries meant little. Old demons reared their ugly heads, biting at his mind from the inside, for he had developed a deep seated hatred for packs, but he ignored them, pushing forward in search of the shewolf he had chosen, and who had chosen him.

As he came upon her he did not pause, nor seek permission, he took her. His needs dictated his actions. Striding forward, he grabbed a mouthful of her scruff and shook - not so forcefully as to destabilize her, but enough to elicit a reaction from her. For three years now their odd relationship had been one of fulfilling one another's needs - and what he needed now was to dominate her and stake his claim on her once and for all. But that did not mean he expected her to accept such a thing without retaliation - after all, her tenacity was the very reason he had chosen her.