Of Archangels And Primos

It was about time he’d gotten out this way. He knew Bass had come calling not long before he and his mother had come down with the latest cold, but now that he was the Archangel, he wanted to assure himself of the terms between Celestial and Abaven. So he’s taken off, leaving Creed at the helm, and headed off to the East. It was his first really definitive move since being made the Archangel. Apart from talking to Leo, he hadn’t met with any of the other alphas on his own, and he would be rectifying that very shortly.

He slowed as the place he remembered his mother stopping at to call for Bass came into sight ahead. As he came to a stop at the borders, he lowered his head, taking a few light whiffs of the scents there. Bass’ was still dominant among them, and that cheered him greatly. There wouldn’t be the awkwardness of having to assess a new face, and having to guess at the personality behind it.

Cinder had stayed home, helping watch the pups, so for Regulus, this was a solo run. He stepped back, lifting his muzzle to the sky and sending a rich, baritone call for Bass, voice respectful of the Destruction. Not a demand, but a polite request for a moment of his time. As the call rolled off on the wind, he lowered his haunches to the ground, posture easily erect, tail flicking to curl about his left hip. He was patient; when the wolf you wanted to talk to was an older, more experienced alpha, patience and respect was the way to go.