frayed stitching

A nervous buzz moved through the male's bones as he walked through the Island. Sharpe pink and blue eyes took in the midnight landscape. Hannibal roamed as he took in the region with simple curiosity. Since moving her had spent a lot of time in the Shrine but not in their adjoined territory. An Island full of wonder and lush flora. It was no wonder Deathbelle had chosen the region. The moon was high in the sky shining its cool toned gaze upon the beast's scarred back. Hannibal's jaws were slightly a jar as he took in the scents of their pack's inhabitants.

Despite the relaxed nature of Hannibal's movements he was not aimlessly wandering. It had been some time since his latest rejoining of Ashen and he hadn't had the courage to approach his daughter Recluse or son Gimli. He spent some very uncomfortable time with Banshee but she was still full of an undying rage. Hannibal was aware that it would take time for relationships to be even slightly stitched together and even then it still might be an impossible venture. But, he felt as though if he didn't try all of his previous efforts in these forsaken lands would be for nothing. With that being said the phantom of a Wolf slowed his steps as a clearing in which the moon's rays seemed to pass through the canopy above with picture-esque elegance. Hannibal tossed his slender head upward and relinquished a summoning howl towards the heavens, beckong Recluse and only Recluse.