Returning to stay

Sandor found himself once more wandering the path he had taken to get to the Ashen packlands. He had spoken to Torin and been given permission to leave, now that he was untied to a pack the boy felt free and it showed in the way he carried himself. His head was up, ears forward but relaxed on his skull, tail carried in a relaxed position as well, he moved with an easy but quick gait as he moved across the stone he was becoming all too familiar with. Armor adorned the boy, carried from the island where he kept it safe. This was his only possession and for him, the only thing he would not part with. The bright red colors were a compliment to his grey, black, white and rusty fur.

He came to a stop as he smelled the Ashen border, taking a moment to look forward and then behind him. Is this really what he wanted? Sandor was confident he could excel in Ash n and advance quickly if he put his mind to it... But did he want the chains of a pack on him so soon? The boy shook himself, armor rattling softly as it jostled against him and other pieces of the armor, finally he tipped his head back and howled for Deathbelle. He'd made his choice, now he would live with it. The boy remained standing, proudly waiting for her to come to him.