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It was certainly lonely being on the run. In the year and a half or so since he left his homeland, he was sure that he had spoken with only a handful of wolves. He had almost grown accustomed to the constant silence, even used to spending his days wandering in an aimless search for a new home. Sometimes he wondered if he would even be able to readjust to living around other wolves again if he ever did. Or did he even really want to? In reality he knew that if he ever came across his family members or even any of the Xanilovs again he wouldn't hesitate to join whatever force they were sure to be a part of, but in this moment as he padded through what seemed to be an empty field dotted with large boulders he really could consider spending the rest of his days alone like this. It was simpler. No wolves to defend, no worry of his presence bringing harm to others. He only had to take care of himself and avoid any of the wolves that wished him and his line harm. He did have to remind himself that he was now countless miles from his homeland, but he couldn't seem to shake that irrational fear.

He settled on his haunches in the shade of one of the boulders with a sigh, looking around this new landscape curiously. There were stale, faint scents of wolves that had passed through here before, but no fresh ones that stood out to him. Settling onto his stomach, Nikolai rested his head on his paws and let out a deep breath. His muted gaze peered out across the empty land while he wondered what this new land would have to offer him, or not offer as the case may be.

The rock garden, so very close to the place where New Ebony now resided. Rumors had spread to him when he ran this way, talk of the masks wolves calling this place their new home. He flinched at the thought of his homeland, dreams of the war raged behind his closed eyelids, forcing the male to stay awake most of the time. Sleep as an illusion to him, its darkness did not bless him with dreamless night-times. No, every time he closed his eyes he saw the blood shed, remembered the metallic tang of blood when he tore into those bastards throats. His auburn coat had been soaked in the blood of those who dared appose him, and still he had ran. After he had been attacked and those wolves took half of his sight, he knew what his options had been. He could stay and fight, trying to adapt to the loss of most of his sight in his left eye and most likely die. Or he could run, shame his family but make it out alive. He had taken the cowards way out instead of dying like a warrior. For two years he had hid himself away, until he found the lands of Alacrita. No longer could he ignore the pull he felt towards the rumored new home of Ebony. This is why he was making his way towards these lands, to see if one of his blood-sisters had once again claimed a throne. He knew that most of his own kin were probably dead, not many made it out alive. Sighing softly, he tasted the stranger on the wind. Auburn ears perked, his paws turning to see the masked boy sitting in the shade, avoiding the heat of the sun.

Fendar -- although grumpy -- was curious about this boy. He bore the markings of his kin, that mask and the splotches were a tell-tale sign of Xanilov blood. Had there been more of his blood brought into these lands? Or was he a bastard, a boy carrying the fathered blood of his own, but taking his mothers name as all of their kind did. The tall beast picked his way over to him, two-toned eyes alight on his form. "Greetings boy." He called, his low baritone sounding rather grumpy. "What is your calling?" Demanding was his tone, the lack of sleep making him like an angered bear. He had a very short fuse during this time, and couldn't do much to stop him. Going days without sleep was hard on his body, and even harder on his mind. He seemed to be in a daze most of the time, his world already foggy with the limited sight in his silver eye. He often closed it if he wanted a better look, his bronze eye was as clear as a crystal. But both were looking at the male before him, testing the air to see if he knew his smell. But no, it was new to him, he couldn't place it anywhere in his weary mind.

The longer he rested there in the shade, the more Nikolai began to drift toward sleep, a mid-afternoon nap sounding like as good a plan as any at this point. Just as his pale gaze was beginning to drift closed a brown-hued figured appeared in his line of sight. His eyes opened wide once more, his drowsiness quickly disappearing in the wake of a rush of adrenaline. The male seemed to be heading straight for him and with his fairly recent history he couldn't think of any pleasant reason for it. Scrambling to his paws, Nikolai watched the brute carefully, ready to defend himself if need be. The bend in his right foreleg gave him a bit of trouble as he stood, making his movement a bit more clumsy looking than it really was. However, the stranger surprised him a bit by simply demanding to know his name. His ear twitched in surprise, but from the male's tone he could tell it would be in his best intrest to just answer the question. "Nikolai Bierne," he replied simply as his eyes glanced to the splotchy markings that dappled his coat. They were marks that he knew all too well since similar ones marked his own fur. His eyes found the male's with fresh curiosity, asking, "Who are you?" ""