Kahina had called, her voice echoing in the mist of the early spring morning when dew caked the grass and a chill permeated the air. It had been a delicate thing, this plan of theirs, and she had become an integral part of it. In return she got her own sort of vengeance and who was Thorne to turn it down if it helped further his own cause? An excitement thrummed through his veins as he stirs in the twilight, moving with decided purpose. Natiya is awakened and hastens at his heels - then Zharko, the burning gleam in the charcoal eyes of the obsidian boy enough to drive his Commander to his side. After all, these were his most loyal and the others would come.

Or they would be hunted.

The pup is tiny, so much so that for a moment Blackthorne is thrown as he looks down upon her, the fog swirling at their paws and her eyes gleaming up at him. Then he grins, that one fanged grin, and his gaze shifts to Kahina, the other two flanking him. "Time for vengeance," he says in a coo, delight clear in his voice.

The trip southward is cast in a swirl of bodies surrounding the prized puppy. Not one paw could be set out of line without a larger one to correct it, flashing teeth and smirks thrown about, a giddy sense of purpose and staggering pride. As the sun rises and begins to burn away the ephemeral mist, Thorne and his gang find themselves on the edge of Iromar. The stench of rot is growing by the day, the sun cooking whatever was dead and the mud oozing. It smelled like triumph to him.

With a jerk of his muzzle he halts them all, pointed ears pricked forward before sliding back,head rising and a call given demanding attention and calling his own pack of sorts. Just a few steps over the border with his tail high, dominance fairly oozing off him while he drops his head and waits for them to come, the three other wolves surrounding the pup behind him. "Come here, little alpha," he chants in a sing song voice, a touch of malice laced while he waits.