where the red fern grows

Change was heavy in the air within Seracia. So many things had been going on within the man's home in such a short period of time. A few members had taken their leave, some met an untimely death, like the King Gerhardt's ex-wife Adette. He had been aware of the challenge to the amethyst eyed man's freedom and had hoped vehemently that the man who had granted him a place in his pack would come out victorious. And he had. It was unfortunate but the esquire had fallen sick for nearly a week and had been unable to attend to adette's burial as well as the pack meeting, though his sister had been kind enough to inform him of all the going ons. Gerhardt had passed down the crown to his russet prince Maverick, who had been wed to the Valhallan princess Epiphron, who was now ruling beside him as queen, expecting the first royal liter. Several members had been promoted, his sister among them and the man couldn't be any more proud. His pack was flourishing.


It was a day unlike any other, the esquire out and about across Seracia, patrolling the borders when a summoning call meant only for him erupted into the atmosphere; Maverick. His new king. Without a moment's hesitation the grey and black man was jogging in the direction of the call, golden gaze coming across the russet king's figure as he sat to the side of a tall russet plant. Pontifex dipped his head, ears tilting back against his skull, plume curled respectively between his hocks. Your majesty.. A bow was presented to his king, wondering what exactly his alpha was calling him to do this day.


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