Feels like a battle I'm yet to win[SECRETUA]

With a scowl about his hard features, the pale grey Guardian padded quietly through the rigid grass of the Prairie toward the waiting caller. Naturally he was wary of answering. It was not the kind of call a loner would send up, one seeking an audience to assess their character for a potential position within the pack. No, there was no longing here, not discontent. This was someone who knew their place and were happy with it, someone who had enough time on their hands to go nosing about in the business of their neighbors. This was another pack's wolf. 

The wind was against him so he had no forewarning of who exactly it might have been, and even though admitting it to himself was near impossible he was worried it was someone from Arcanum. The whole lot of them were impossible to trust, the man he had once called father in particular, and it pained him to think that his nephews were contentedly there among them. It would have suited him better to have them near where he could watch them grow, where he could be certain of their health and comfort, but in the end they had been the ones to choose. Dredging up those worries was going to get him nowhere now. 

When at last his frosty blue eyes alighted on the figure standing there at his border - one very obviously not Kylar or the grey woman he took orders from - Rune was nearly relieved enough to feel slightly happy. It was not apparent, however, his firm and stern mask just as secure as it ever was, but there was no malice or clear irritation in his authoritative stance or the pointed look of his eyes as he slowed and stopped before the scarred woman. "You're no rogue," he stated directly, his gaze just slightly narrowing as he regarded her critically while trying to deduce her motive, "Why are you here?"