Slowly but surely, the boy was gaining a sense of what loyalty was. Though he had joined the pack of Asteraia, it had never fit quite right. He'd done it because his sister lived there, loved the land and had some attachment to it. But the wolves who inhabited the fields were not ones he felt any drive to remain loyal to. It was Sekhmet who his loyalty laid with, and that day in the forest when he had pledged himself to her he'd also made the choice not to return to the little red wolf's pack. Ripper had no qualms with Halcyon or his pack, but he also knew from simply watching the wolves in their daily work that he was not a good fit there. And so he took to roaming the free lands with his sister.

How much Ripper actually wandered the expanse of Moladion's common grounds was another matter, though. While his sister roved across the landscape in search of new possessions and meat to fill their bellies, Ripper returned to his sedate lifestyle. The valley was the only true home he'd ever known, and thus he'd returned to it with ease. He watched the wolves again, as he'd done all his life, and things returned to a sense of normalcy. Now it was Sekhmet who brought him food, sometimes nipping at his heels or ears until he roused himself and contributed to the hunt, less willing to allow his laziness than their mother had been. But despite the familiarity of this lifestyle, there was something very different in the young male himself. A constant pull, and desire to go west that he'd repressed for some time now.

He'd felt it ever since having parted with Masque in the lowlands of the mountain pack. The spritely girl had captured a part of him he hadn't known existed until the moment he'd laid eyes on her. It was one of the only things he kept from Sekhmet, because much like she struggled with the common tongue, he had no words to explain it. Even if he had, he didn't think he would have shared this with her - fearing that she may see his desires as weakness and try to remove it from him. The bridge of his muzzle wrinkled at the thought - no wolf would lay tooth or claw against Masque, no one would touch her. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness swarmed up within him, and he finally gave way to the yearning in his paws, setting out towards the west in search of the girl.

Though he could not understand why, the tugging in his chest directed him southwest to the riverside. Bright hazel eyes drifted back and forth, taking in his surroundings, searching for her. For some time he wandered, slinging his head low on occasion to sniff at the foliage in hopes of catching her scent. Perhaps this instinct he felt was all wrong, for he found nothing of her. He began to grow apathetic in his endeavors, thinking it all rather pointless. More than once he nearly flopped down and gave up, but something unfamiliar pushed him onward. Ears perked at the shift in the sound of the water's course. Ripper lifted his head, trotting forward to investigate the change, and found himself standing at the cusp of a waterfall. The rocks he stood upon were wet with the spray of the falls as they cascaded down to a pool below. The effulgence of the sun glinting off the surging water was a sight to behold, but that was not what captured Ripper's attention. His skin tingled as he looked to the path that lead from the foliage to the foot of the waterfall, somehow knowing that at any moment she would reveal herself to him. Paws hugged the edge of the stones, his soul practically begging him to leap, to plunge to the waters below so that he could be nearer to her when she came into view.