He wasn’t a fan of these lands… no, not one bit. Einan didn’t like the particular vibe that he felt. He found himself missing the harsh winters and even harsher rules of his homeland, strangely enough. Perhaps that was because the rules had never particularly applied to him, after all, he had been the heir. He missed the order and the serenity… not enough to go back, of course, but just enough to get that homesick feeling pitted in his stomach. Whatever, now he was just being lame. He scoffed at himself, his paws trying to scrape away at the dirt in a distracting manner… yeah, that plan didn’t work out too well either.

The ground is frozen, idiot. A voice in the back of his head screeched at him, before he started to walk again. Follow the northern star… just keep your eyes on the star, travel by night, hunt in the morning, sleep during the day. It was his ‘sure fire’ way to keep out of trouble. Einan figured if he moved when wolves were asleep, the likelihood of him running into unsavory characters would decrease… in his mind, the logic was sound.

He rolled his shoulders back, his head tall though he tried to make his steps as silent as possible as to not disturb the lands or anything that might be sleeping in or around them. Knowing his luck, he’d manage to wake a bear up from hibernation! He rolled his eyes at the very thought, scoffing at himself once more. He was being melodramatic. “что ето, енан! как ты идешь?”

Hannibal moves his muscular form through the south with ease. The phantom was sure to avoid any opposing pack territory or notorious predator dens. He worked the night and moved with glorious memories of each territory. As of now he had memorized the south and was nearly always on the hunt. Previously he hunted smaller prey for consumption but now he spent more time seeking Wolves. Hannibal was the Taskmaster of Erovrare which meant he was essentially the overlord of Slaves. He was to collect, train, and manage the bond servants within the pack. As of then they had two servants; Pari and Eulogy. It seemed as though Pari was much more reclusive and perhaps served Tyranis mostly. Eulogy had a constant flow of tasks for both Thys and Hannibal which helped keep the slave on her toes and thinned out. An exhausted slave wouldn’t run, or get far to say the least. As the albino beast moved his way through the terrain he slithered along the brim of the Rio Grande. His tail was erect and his expression neutral. While outside of Erovrare territory he remained dominant but not horribly so. Hannibal did not want to be too big of a target. Yet, as he carried on a scent filled his nose and an alabaster brow raised. Suddenly his pale gaze was on the hunt for a Wolf who smelled of a rogue male. Soon his greedy gaze fell upon an earthy toned youngyin wandering blissfully. The male perked up and began to trot towards the stranger. Hannibal lacked shame as he was extra hateful in the last week or so. The hustle and bustle of pups as well as a high strung alpha filled his form with stress. He needed a punching bag and perhaps the beast found his subject. As he neared the stranger the phantom stopped at about seven tail lengths away with an awful smirk. “What is a weakling like you doing lurking the night?” The male was rather forward and crude with his verbiage. There was now flowery flourish but only a lace of pure venom. “The baddies will get you.” speech action

Following along the river felt like a safe bet to him, and helped him keep at least one direction straight in his head. He remained unaware of the phantom’s presence until his vile voice caused the young принц to turn, habit forcing his hackles to rise, eyes narrowed in defiance. He was slipping; he should have been able to sense the man’s presence beforehand. The man’s form caused him to inwardly cringe – such patterns in his coat meant one thing: hellish fiends. His mother had warned him about the hell fiends… but he’d never believed in them. Supposedly pure white, corrupt from the devil touching them, spots of black plaguing their body and an attitude so vile and so sour, even the devil himself was slightly afraid.

“Я не должен отвечать крестьянам.” He snapped, his thick accent accentuating his native tongue, blissfully aware that the man appeared to speak the inferior language, though he did not speak it in return. He figured, perhaps tactically, if there were a language barrier, perhaps the conversation would be cut short. Einan scoffed, turning his head and starting to move away from the man, his head shifting back to watch – never turn your back on an enemy, папа had always been very clear about that rule… everyone was an enemy, everyone except family. It was perhaps the one rule he’d actually listened to.

The baddies will get you. The youth rolled his eyes at the very comment. The man was quite obviously a lunatic. Baddies didn’t lurk around rivers in the night… right? He refused to show it on his face, but somewhere deep down he felt a creeping fear sinking into his pelt. He was strong enough to handle whatever life threw at him right? He’d survived this long on his own, learned to hunt, learned to fend for himself. He could handle himself against some creep who enjoys sneaking up on and talking to young children in the middle of the night.

Hannibal had no desire for the youth. Anyone under the age of two was iffy for the male and he could easily contain his gaze. He did not look at the opposing younger male with lust but with hunger. The Taskmaster wanted nothing more but then to claim the boy to become a bond servant for Erovrare. But, it seemed with the amount of attitude exerted from the earthy toned boy's facial features he would not come as easily as the rest. Hannibal sought to connect his gaze with the older pup's own and it seemed he received nothing but disgust. The phantom thought of his pelt to be beautiful and unique. Others mostly seemed to have a similar thought process, but some thought of him as a mutant. It seemed perhaps this youngyin was on the more negative side of the spectrum. As foreign vocals filled the air Hannibal merely matched the pup's eye rolls. So dramatic and disgustingly annoying. He would simply try to communicate one more time before exerting his force. The albino wasn't fond of harming such a young creature but it seems he was asking for it. Hannibal gave plenty warning of his intent. "I do not speak your putrid tongue, boy." A snarl could be seen as his lips curled upward to expose ivory teeth. "You are testing the wrong male's patience." It was one more invitation to talk. speech action