Tor had been doing a lot of thinking on his own, and watching the southern packs (not any from the north, as he did not travel far enough from home to venture up there) as they dealt with a frightening disease and tried to prepare for winter. He'd been pretty young last winter, and inexperienced as it was his first as an adult and he really hadn't been much involved in the world outside his own problems. He'd finally gotten to the point, now, that he could look at the wolves of Ardent and not remember - in clear, painful detail - the aftermath of war, or battles to the death. He could see the potential instead, the potential for a deeply integrated community of wolves working to better life for themselves and everyone around them, instead of just fighting to survive. And that's what it seemed like, when he watched. There wasn't much anyone could really do to prepare for winter, so it was just all a matter of doing your best to survive it. You could gather herbs and store them, but at a frantic pace because you were doing so alone. Why couldn't more things be simply stored until they were needed? Why spend so much time scurrying trying to find prey when you could keep it close by? So many ideas tumbled around in his head, and though his youthful enthusiasm was tempered by a natural caution, talking it over with Aiden had merely solidified his resolve.
But there was one problem.
Namely, that problem was him. Or rather, the amount of hims there were, which was one. One Tornach, and one Aiden. Much of his plans would need something along the lines of a network of acquaintances which he had to admit he hadn't made much of an effort to acquire up to this point. He wasn't much good at actually getting out and meeting people, and his usual reticence made it difficult to really get to know anyone to the point of being able to build any sort of trust or working relationship. Other parts would need, purely and simply, more physical labor than a falcon could assist him with, even one as intelligent and beautiful as Aiden was.
So he had gathered up every ounce of that resolve and returned to the one place he actually knew anyone. The last time he'd been here, he'd walked out of his mother's pack claim without even saying goodbye, nor had he seen anyone from his family or his mother's pack other than Baine and Zuriel since then. It wasn't likely to have gone over real well with everyone and he'd had no pressing desire to see anyone anyway so he hadn't pushed the matter. But the fact was that he needed help, and he lived literally the next land over. He couldn't keep putting off the inevitable.
He came to a stop at Celestial's borders and breathed in the familiar scent of his family. Heavily interlaced with strangers now, yes, but he could still pick out the family scents easily. Aiden creeled encouragingly to him when he hesitated, preening a lock of fur behind his ear before she launched herself into the wintry sky to keep watch. His eyes followed her a moment before he sighed, stomped down his apprehension, and lifted his muzzle in a howl calling out to Celestial's leadership. Last he'd been here, his mother had been alpha, his father had been consort, and Regulus had been heir. He didn't know what, if anything, had changed since then, so he couched his call in vague terms.
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