Good Omens (Abraxi)

Apollo strode to the edge of the canyon's territory and stopped, his grayed nose visibly working at sorting out the scents that criss-crossed this obvious border. It wasn't a pack... but it was clear that guests were unwanted. A faint smile twitched at the phantom's muzzle. Yes, this was indeed where his esteemed littermate had chosen to ensconce the family. There were other scents as well, though not as many as he had expected to find given how many had left the family's former dwelling place. One of his other littermates, Pyralis... he sighed internally but accepted that... several of Amon's children, and several other scents he did not recognize but knew as 'family'. Many of the scents still had that unformed scent that shouted 'pup', though none young enough to still hold the milk-scent of the unweaned.

Even though he was family, Apollo was not foolish enough to intrude unrecognized into an established Abraxas territory. It would be all too easy to find himself ambushed before he was recognized, and he had no interest in harming one of his blood unless it was necessary. So instead he settled his pale, sleek frame back onto his haunches with graceful dignity, and raised his muzzle to call out in his deep, deep voice for any of his family who happened to be patrolling, or simply nearby. It would be better to announce himself in this way rather than being forced to sit on some overenthusiastic younger Abraxas who couldn't remember him.