they should call me icarus, flying this close to the sun

His father had always called him a reckless child. His mother hd argued that he was daring. Dream had come to realize he was a combination of both, because while it was true that he did a lot of things that others considered stupid or risky, more often than not he'd already weighed the outcomes in his mind and done the math. He was proud to say that things usuaally worked out the way they were supposed to, but he'd be a liar if he said every one of his plans had gone off without a hitch before. Hell, more than a few of the scars on his body had been earned doing some crazy shit- but it never seemed to phase him.

This, however, had to be among the stupider things he'd ever done. Trying to join a pack wasn't an easy thing. If they were at capacity, in a foul mood, or just weren't the sort to take in strays then there was a very good chance he'd find himself on the losing end of a mobbing, and call him crazy but he'd always sort of valued his life. It's why he'd just stuck to himself for all this time even though the solitude was emotionally killing him. Sure, he was physically built to strive even on his own, and his current condition was a testament to that; maxed out in his height for a normal wolf, his body was carved from taut muscle and well-fed, decorated in the scars of a survivor. His cleaming green eyes held a sharp intelligence about them despite attractive features that were usually accented by a goofy, toothy grin, and his sandy blonde fur was clean and healthy, if not a bit ruffled from his hunting trip earlier- well away from the Armadas territory, of course. He had no intention of being accused of somthing like stealing prey, and the evidence of his meal had been cleaned from his lips and paws long ago. No, physically there was no dispute that he was doing just fine for himself even at such a young age, but it wasn't his body that had convinced him to finally come here.

No, as pathetic as it sounded, Dream was tired of constantly being alone.

At his very core there was no greater yearning in him than for that of comradery- to be able to rough-house, train, and joke with his peers was as much a basic need for the wolf as eating or drinking at this point, and the longer he denied himself the more frustrted and aggressive he could feel himself becoming. At this rate, what was even the point of being alive? It was a thought that chased him like a pair of snapping jaws, and whenever they managed to dig in the green eyed male would find himself doing stupid shit, like wandering a bit too close to the borders of the packlands.

Like today.

A sea of green spilled out before him, an emerald grassland he had seen from a distance on multiple occasions but had never dared to get so close to. Today though, the scentmarks at the border sung to him in a way they usually didn't. Usually the stench of pack was enough to earn a wide berth from the young wolf, but this time it only mde that envy in him worse, stoking the embers into a full out flame. How nice it must be to have a pack, to have people to trust and work with, to fight along side. Words like 'brotherhood' and 'loyalty' and 'purpose' taunted him like cruel children, and before he knew what he was doing, Dream tipped his head back and let out a long, low howl.

OOC- sorry about the lame starter, I have to go do some stuff but really wnted to get this up!!!