Who was going to stop him? Nobody! When were they going to stop him? Never! See, it was that simple. It almost made him laugh - and he would have...if he wasn't so quietly afraid of having his own ass handed to him on a silver platter. Like, he knew he had become a trespasser, he just didn't feel like...well, not being one. It would be harder, and much more time consuming, to summon an alpha...wait for them...talk to them...have them trust him enough to let him in...you know, all of that. It was much easier to just slip in down the river's banks with his paws dunked in freezing cold water, right?

So that was his plan. Silent, calculated, deserving of all the awards one had to offer a master infiltrator. See, Glorall had something important to him - Samia! How had he been so negligent? He had left her alone for far too long and - pray nobody knew it - half of her first winter as a grown woman. It made him want to screech and claw at himself. She was so beautiful, after all, like a snowy day full of sunlight and birds singing - what if somebody else had noticed? What if somebody else had noticed and she had noticed them back?

Dread.

Pure dread.

He hiccuped. Nervous response. He was getting close then. He was able to smell her and with a suddeness seldom seen, he forced himself upright into a noble, proud stature before he cleared his throat. His heart pounded. He swore he heard her call his name and yet, it was but a waking dream as he sauntered through the underbrush to where he had been sure she was.

"Samia," he called out quietly, his ears flickering back suddenly and jerkily with the slightest sound - he was terrified, after all, of being committed to the great water or, you know, totally murdered - but still: desperate. "Samia..." He called again. Now he could hear paws. Was it...death coming for him? He could barely face it.