The confines of Iromar did not bind him nor would he stay entrapped in a pack like he accused the other alphas of doing. Well, mostly just Eden as he hadn't had the chance or the care to speak to the other alphas. They lorded over their prized land as if it was something to cherish. Land was land. His pack could move from one to another and be just the same but there was something heady about his clawed paws touching the soft soil of Iromar and knowing HE had the command over whether blood would soak into it or not. His wolves slavered in Iromar ready to follow his commands and he had given them blood. The blood of his own father. He had given them gifts, such as the girl for his Commander.

One could not say that Blackthorne did not give, but he did so with the means to take.

He had left Iromar frequently to hunt, amused when the loner wolves did not recognize him. It wasn't a surprise when everyone seemed afraid to visit the Moors but it certainly gave him an ego boost. It was on these excursions he had begun to notice the scent that trailed in and out of Iromar, teasing, tantalizing, but the girl stayed one step ahead. She did not delve into the moors far and so her intentions were likely not that of a thief, although he salivated at the thought of chasing one down and sinking his teeth into flesh. It was high time he sparred with his Commander once more to alleviate the burning in his blood.

The next day he found the dead muskrat, sniffing it curiously but not touching it. Typically he would be brazen enough to eat it but while Thorne was sometimes pompous, he was not an idiot. He didn't specialize in poisons and who knew if it was a ploy? But it had peaked his interest because the scent was the same as the one tracing Iromar. The third day he found her scent trail across trees and golden fur, his body bristling in excitement at this hunt, but it took time and careful precision to pick up her trail.

So on that sixth day, her trail bright and fresh, he followed it. The mountains were in front of him with a glassy lake beneath them, the water mimicking the tall peaks. The moment he sees her, he knows who she is, her scent so stuck in his nose, her poise that of careless grace, and his trademark grin with that one peeking fang is given as he nears, pausing below her boulder to look up. "What a game you play, darling," he purrs. "Toying with a Darkbringer is a dangerous thing. Is it danger you seek?"