Hope you don't mind if I drop in

"Shit shit shit!" he muttered breathlessly to himself as he ran, glancing back over his shoulder occasionally to see if he had finally managed to lose the furious polar bear that had begun its chase a bit further north where the submerged woods began to fade into the large trees of the Red Forest. He had been lingering in the area for a while to explore northern Boreas and get the lay of the land before be caught out the man that his mother had suggested he go see. He had not been back from his travels for very long, but after just a short visit with his parents and relatives in The Hallows the wandering young man was already drifting off again. Wondrously while he and his sister were venturing out beyond the borders of Auster and Boreas, they managed to connect with some of their father's tribe and during his time with them he realized how valuable some knowledge in fighting could be when used in tandem with the hunting that he actually had a passion for. Even though he hardly had a desire to fight for any reason beyond self defense, he couldn't deny the logic of how the two skills intertwined which was what brought him here to the north–in search of Sirius Fatalis.

He could have easily stayed in The Hallows with his family there and learned from his mother and half-siblings, which he still might before it was all said and done, but his mother had encouraged him to branch out and learn from a range of different teachers and her own mentor had been the first name on her list. That brought him up to the north, but his own curiosity about the cold, snowy regions around the pack's claimed lands pulled his attention and he had drifted further up into the tundra. While he was there he had made quick work of a young caribou that was very nearly too large to be called a calf and was enjoying his breakfast when a polar bear came charging at him seemingly out of no where. He had very quickly jumped out of the way and abandoned his partially eaten kill since he had assumed that the larger predator had wanted the meat for himself. It felt like a logical explanation to him and he was more than happy to give up the caribou in favor of not having to tangle with an angry polar bear. However, as he began to run back toward the Red Forest the bear didn't let up on its pursuit and it left him bounding with long strides through the thick tree trunks. He honestly couldn't tell why it was chasing after him at this point, but his one attempt to round on it and try to scare it off had only earned him a fairly sizable slash across his shoulder that was now bleeding noticeably down his leg so he didn't really have time to question it more than that.

He kept thinking that maybe, at some point, the bear would tire out or give up the chase, but from what he could tell in his quick glances back at the pursuing predator, its eyes looked wild and panicked and the heavy amounts of spittle flying from its jaws as it ran didn't help the look. It made him wonder if it was really him that it was trying to chase or if something else was going on that had sent the predator into a tizzy, but regardless he desperately needed to get away from it since there was no way he was going to be able to face this behemoth on his own. Briefly he considered calling for help as he drew closer and closer to the heavily scent marked border of the Armada, but by the time someone arrived the polar bear would have already been on him and it'd be too late. Instead, Malik sprinted past the pack's borders with a silent prayer that they'd be understanding to the situation whenever one of them found him, and quickly darted into the more closely packed, gnarled trees of the Mile-High Woods. He hoped that the combination of the wolf pack's scent and the tighter quarters would be enough to finally shake the polar bear off of his trail, but just for good measure he made a beeline for the closest tree that had a low enough slope to its trunk that he could scramble onto it, clawing his way up into the thick branches to get out of its reach. Some combination of his attempts to get away finally made the bear hesitate and it paced a bit at the edge of the Armada's territory, almost appearing to be unsure of where it was or what it was doing. Malik watched it warily from where he was perched in the branches while he panted to catch his breath until it finally turned and lumbered off back through the redwood trees of the neighboring territory.

Malik let out a long, heavy sigh of relief once it was finally out of sight and he began to pick his way down the way he had gotten up, the reverse path somehow more difficult than getting up there now that he wasn't driven by wild adrenaline. He fell the last few feet to get out of the tree, landing with a thud and a grunt as he toppled a bit and eventually pulled himself back to his paws. Sitting down heavily on his haunches, he lifted a paw to remove the ram skull that had been fitted around his head up until now and sat it on the ground beside him while he turned his head to look at the cut across his shoulder. It wasn't too terrible, luckily. It'd probably heal up on its own soon enough, but a bit of help from a healer wouldn't be unappreciated. Suddenly remembering that he was in pack territory uninvited, be snatched up his helmet and moved back toward the border a bit before sitting back down and lifting his head to let out a howl to announce his presence and call for Sirius. This certainly wasn't the beginning of his training that he had envisioned, but it would certainly be a memorable one!

WC: 1052 / 800

"Malik of the Sea"