Creative Intent

Zagan was far from home that evening, traveling into the deep, southern region of the continent. Now that he was a full-fledged yearling, his responsibilities within The Syndicate shifted- he needed a better understanding of the world around him- of the politics that drove packs together, or into madness.

Recently, his great Uncle reminded him of The Syndicate’s upbringing- the kidnapping, ransom, threats and more- and Zagan wanted to see the territory that could have been their home, if his Father hadn’t moved them up North. The former kingdom of Norad.

Once he arrived, he did a thorough lap of the territory, combing through each detail, before ending up on a beach. So far, nothing stuck out to him- the area had a good food and water source, yes- but so did his Father’s three domains. Unimpressed, he was set to leave the Aspen Dam, but a shift in the atmosphere stopped him- the unmistakable scent of smoke- an oddity among the salty scent of damp earth and ocean.

Acting impulsively, Zagan moves toward the source, closing the distance between himself and the flickering flame. The bright and steady flame stood in contrast against a backdrop of ocean- and there, beside the fire, was another wolf.

They were diligently working with their paws, forming clay into the shape of... well, Zagan didn't know. But they were trying to make something- that much was obvious.

"Zagan Saxe"