The Gentleman from California has the Floor

White paws carried Rhyme Westward, the journey thus far being rather uneventful. Imperia flew above him, her not quite hawk like eyes keeping watch mostly for threats but also for food. The Imperialis had found hunting with a bird much easier than on his own even if their quarry was never very big. He hoped he wasn't putting on too much weight, but the constant travel eased much of those thoughts. Along the way he tried to recite what he might say to these wolves his diplomatic journey brought him to. He hadn't yet been tasked with such an important quest, and he didn't think himself particularly politically inclined. He wasn't about to let Shaye down though, and remembered what she had told him. 

Imperia let out a loud cry as the two of them approached the border. She remained circling in the cool autumn air as Rhyme finished the last mile to the border of Lirim. He didn't see anyone as he approached, but the scent at the border seemed fresh. There were no scents he recognized either, not that the information surprised him. 

Settling on his haunches he tipped back his dark head and called out to his fellow alphas, only really needing one to appear before him. Hissing finished and he settled to wait while someone found their way to the border to answer him.