Just a couple days difference, and yet it had affected his ranking. The last of the May babies to age up, Asmund now found himself at the bottom, save Eros' yearling cousins. For most of his youth, he had been happy to be forgotten about, to hide beneath everyone's expectations. Being lowest had suited him. Now, though? Asmund had grown, was still growing, and the bottom of the dogpile did not afford him the proper space to continue.

He was not lesser than others. He was the adoptive son of the alpha, and it was time he started acting like it.

Anatole seemed to be most often found outside of the territory, pursuing the duties of his role. Asmund had paused briefly at the edge of the Backwater's territory, memories flashing through his mind and heart quivering with fear. He had not defeated it, but rather had found a way to make space, a piece of himself that he was slowly figuring out how to close the door on when needed. With a huff, he pushed past the invisible boundary and continued after his goal.

The picture of a determined predator on the outside, an absolute livewire internally.

He picked up his agemate's scent and did not have to follow it long. When he appeared before Anatole, it was with a raised head and suspended tail.

"Hey. We need to talk." Only a brief pause, and then he would get to the chase, "I want my rank back."