Walk | Talk | Think
It was strange to be back - how long exactly had he been away? Months? A year? Longer? It felt like ages to the still young wolf, but even after all that time he could remember how his departure had come about, the events that had led up to Tortuga's disbandment. He had been so convinced that Morphine was going to be the one to bring the pack back to greatness after it had been tarnished by the rogue band from the north. She had seemed so determined, so full of ideas, that he had fallen right in, even offered himself up to assist with the running of it in any meager way he could. But it had not been enough. She had lost it still, letting the borders become near invisible until there was nothing more to the last fragments of his home that he had been clinging to, no place that he could hope his missing family members might be able to return to. And for that, for misplaced trust, he had been lost.
In some way, he had always promised himself that he would return to the volcanic mountain that he had grown up on. At first, it had been as a way to reclaim Tortuga's honor as a pack, a means to keep together the band that he thought held a rightful claim to the territory and name. It had seemed valiant at the time, giving him direction when he had none and nowhere to go, but that had changed when he became reacquainted with Alamea. It was a wonder she had taken a liking to him, though for him it had been easy; she was gorgeous with her unusual pink eyes and her downy white coat, not to mention her quick wit. For a time, even after meeting her, the grey and black wolf had clung to his plans of retaking his old home, but when their relationship had progressed to the point there was no turning back, when the chance of children came about, he had abandoned those wishes in order to care for what was soon to become his family.
And now he was here, with them, not as a ruler, not as a conqueror, but as a rogue resident, claiming a little piece of the mountain for him and his. As if it was his own, he ensured a clearly marked border was in place not only to contain his excitable children but to ward against intruders. So far it had proven successful; the kids and his wary mate were adjusting well. They were all presently behind him, safe beside their den that was near his own from childhood - use of it had been impossible upon realizing it had caved in - while he cut across the border he had created and trailed through the woods upon the mountainside just beyond his boundary. He kept his frosty blue eyes shifting about and his ears keenly listening, intending to intercept any unwanted intruders before they got too close to his family. Things had been so quiet thus far, but with three pups there was too much at stake to allow himself to become complacent.
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