Time was against him. Though the stallion was far from considering himself an invalid, even the wolf could not deny the slow beginnings of decline that were beginning to affect his body. Bones grated against one another with resounding pops and cracks as he stirred in the early predawn darkness that blanketed the jungle. The moisture in the air that had once been so refreshing and revitalizing in the early morning hours now seemed to irritate his graying body. Like a worn granite stone, he can feel the cracks beginning to grow. The years of him prime were waning and soon there would be nothing left; and this irritated him.

Blunt teeth clench behind grizzled muzzle as the stallion gives his battle scarred hide a shake, riding the leaf liter and debri from where it had nestled between the mahogany hairs of his side during sleep. Dark tipped ears rotate back and forth atop his head as the vocal call of insects began to give way to the chattering songbirds and parrots that fluttered in the canopies above. The world moved on whether he was prepared or not. He was not ready for it.

Feral green eyes glance back at the form of Vanya, still lost in her own dreams. Where once the smile on her face irritated him to no end, now he found himself with a sort of contentment in the blissful ease of their relationship. How strange for himself and the wolf. She would never bring the same comfort to his soul that Zjeena had, nor Monster for that matter. However in her own manner, the painted bay woman found a way to burrow herself into the soul he felt sure held room for no others.

Silently as the stalking jungle cats that crept through the shadows from time to time, the beast left his bed. Navigating his broad body down the narrow, winding paths worn smooth by constant patrols, Rougaru allowed memory to be his guide as he trekked towards the ever moving stream of fresh water that provided for the herd when droughts from Salem managed to make their way to Atlantis. Paper thin nostrils flare as his keen senses take in the familiar odors of his home. Paradise. Always the jungle had been his paradise and in a way, he blamed the bountiful lands for his lack of motivation over the past few years but the wolf growled its sneer and he himself knew the thought as nothing more than an excuse. Truthfully, the news of Faolain’s actions coupled with the constant threat of Solomon like a storm on the horizon was enough to keep him both on his toes and at a loss for what action to take. The dark mare’s guilt was damned by her sudden departure from the islands. Even Rivaini seemed to have disappeared but the Ridge was not abandoned which also compounded by the fact that it was his son whose scent now covered the borders to Paradise. The tension between himself and the Queen lovers of the Ridge kept him from Hades since the boy was a child but still, it was his blood, the wolf’s blood, that ran through the young Ridgeling. How the women might have colored the boy’s view of him, he was not sure he wanted to know. And yet the curiosity was still there, an ever present churning that only grew stronger as each day passed.

However it was not just Hades on his mind. Solomon was still a threat, as well as whatever half the islands the self proclaimed Tinuvel king had on his side. The thought brought a snarl to his lips. That damn womanizer did have a silver tongue, he had to give him that much credit. A trait that Rougaru found lacking in himself. He personally found neither patience nor reason for such talents. He was honest and as bluntly so as possible. This should have earned him more allies and yet those that he had had weakened and even disappeared as time progressed. Once more, his lack of action was proving to not be in his best interest or in the best interest of his family… his pack.

Absently he drops his head to the water’s surface, his whiskered lips skimming over the cold surface and relishing in the feel of the cool liquid as it coated his tongue and slid down his throat. He needed action. The wolf demanded it. More and more, he felt the creature pacing beneath his skin, its gray fur on end and muscles taunt. He needed to do something. The time for peace and stillness was over.