The 59 Sound

Walk | Talk | Think

He had yet to find his place within the pack, still standing on the sidelines as the rest of the wolves did whatever they normally did amongst each other, but at least he was making a minimal effort at keeping himself busy. The territories themselves were not all that exciting, especially since he did not possess Warja's natural knack for finding all the odd bits and pieces that made them up, but walking them was good. It got him familiar with the lands that he was supposed to be living in, and so he had taken up patrolling, walking those borders and learning where Covari stopped and the rest of the world began. Very rarely did he run across others - normally they were well inside the territory and with no interest in the tall youth - so he was typically left to himself. Just as he wanted it to be.

Eirik was patrolling now, walking the border of the pack lands and going about his business, trying to identify and differentiate between all the different scents that rested upon the border of returning pack wolves and curious rogues. He followed its path, dark paws carrying him along at an easy trot, and slowed to a sudden stop as one scent stuck out to him. His rosy pink eyes grew suddenly alert, his dark nose twitching curiously at the end of his muzzle as he lowered his head and scented the path the scent had made, leading away and out of Covari. Lifting his head, he stared off in the direction it traveled away from him, a brow quirking slightly upward. Where was his mother going? What was she up to?

Considering it was his family, and as a part of that family he had a right to be nosy about it, he glanced once inward toward the pack, ensuring that he was alone and no one else would notice, and then slipped past the border to follow the scent. It traveled south, well away from Covari lands, and the further he got the more curious and confused he became, and also more determined. He took up a swift pace, using his long strides in the hopes of catching up with his small and petite mother, and eventually he did.

He found her upon the beach, and she was surprisingly not alone. Warja stood beside her, looking unusually flustered, and another was there as well, a tall wolf with an unusual coloration. But he had neither scented his sister or this stranger along his trek. Had they been here when Alamea arrived? Eirik's brow furrowed as he came close, calling ahead with a rather concerned tone, "What's going on?" He came to stop beside both women, glancing at first toward his mother, then Warja, and finally at the male who, he was secretly glad to note, looked a bit uncertain about the whole situation. Feeling defensive about the strange male being around two of the women he cared for most in the world, Eirik eyed him distrustfully before casting his rosy pink eyes at his mother and then toward Warja. He could clearly sense something amiss by how bent out of shape his sister appeared, and raising a brow questioningly he asked, "Friend of yours?" Emphasis was placed on the title, an assumption clear within his gaze if he did not say so aloud. And he was eager for her to clarify.