give me something to believe in

This winter was colder than any other Alarik had experienced so far. It was so cold that even the brawny brute with his thick grey coat felt the need to retreat to milder regions. So he left the north behind and began exploring the lands in the eastern part of the continent. While avoiding pack borders, of course. Though, the older Alarik got, the more he was tempted by the scents of those borders. They smelled of community and brotherhood, something he was sorely missing in his life. As a pup he'd dreamed of adventure, and of being a heroic knight in shining armor. Those dreams were slowly fading, being replaced with more practical dreams. Not dying alone. Having a place to rest his head at night. Maybe joining a pack would give him the opportunity to achieve those dreams.

Alarik stopped in his trudge through the snow to give his large body a quick shake, releasing the flakes that had gathered on his back and shoulders. He looked back at the tracks he was leaving behind him, chuckling a bit in spite of himself as he watched the way they twisted and turned. He never seemed to walk in a straight line anymore. He never had a purpose. That's what he needed, he supposed. Something to give his life a purpose. His own personal dragon to slay. But for now, he would move forward. Climb this hill and see what was waiting on the other side. More snow, probably.

Or... maybe not. Warm orange eyes widened a bit in surprise as Alarik realized that the hill he'd been climbing ended abruptly, as if the gods had given up halfway through. Good thing he'd been paying attention. In this monochromatic sea of snow, he easily could have just.. kept walking. Yikes. After one glance at the sea waiting hundreds of feet below, Alarik took a few steps back and cleared a small spot for him to rest his haunches. He wasn't trying to be melodramatic, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about what it might be like to jump off a cliff like that. The thrill of falling would be magnificent. At least it would be something exciting.

Frustrated at his own thoughts, Alarik gave a growling huff and swiped at a bit of snow with his paw. And then he did it again. And again, digging at snow and the grass that lay underneath, a soft but steady stream of snarls falling from his lips as he tried to take his frustration out on something. He wasn't the type to pick a fight on the battlefield for no reason, and he certainly knew better than to find a poor soul to actually take his anger out on. It wasn't anger he was feeling anyway, it was just... just... exasperation. An utter lack of patience for the gods to give him something. Anything. Or was the world really so boring and empty?