He was not unaware of the other’s presence. At first he hoped that the stranger would grow bored of his trail and disappear into the surrounding trees. He was not near any borders—he had made sure of that. The entire trip south (and back north) Cyril had avoided the nearby packs completely, for he was not interesting in making friends or interacting with strangers. The purpose of the trip had been to see Adeltra and now that he had it was time for the sullen boy to return home, to his mother.

It was not the sound of paw steps Cyril noticed first. The smell of another had reached him, resulting in a deep frown that cut across his dark features. His ears swivelled atop his crown to locate his follower as he continued forward, intent on following his path north. He silently cursed himself for not taking the same path as he had before, for he had not encountered a single wolf until he had run into Adeltra in the woods north of the Ridge. But it was too late to turn back now. The wolf seemed keen on following him, despite Cyril not doing anything wrong or trespassing on any borders. The male smelt of others, which meant he belonged to a pack… had they sent him to trail after the boy?

Can I help you? He did not stop walking as he called out to the snow-dusted trees, his tail flicking in annoyance. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the unfamiliar scent once more. The stranger was older than him, but that did not mean he was faster. His tail flicked once more. It was possible he could outrun his follower if necessary… He waited for a response first, as he was intrigued by the male’s silence. 

His nostrils flared once more as he took in another deep breath, just to make sure he had not strayed too close to pack territory. But there were no borders by the creek—not any that belonged to the pack that weighed heavily on the earthen male’s pelt. He couldn’t help but frown. Why was this wolf following him if he wasn’t infringing on pack territory? His pace slowed as he waited for a response, his yellow gaze sifting through the trees as he tried to locate the stranger. There was a glimpse of dark fur from his side, earning a hardened expression from the young Kael-Santoro. The stranger spoke, finally, announcing that there was no reason as to why he was trailing Cyril. Curious? Young’un? He almost huffed in amusement. What he lacked in age he made up for in size. The obsidian boy was quickly growing into a body that rivalled his late father’s and almost stood taller than his mother. He could take care of himself—he didn’t need some stranger trailing after him.

Where you headed? It was none of the male’s business but Cyril wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to be rude. He wasn’t really in the mood for a lot of things since leaving the north, unless it involved his mother or Adeltra. Home, he responded, his tone curt and to the point. I don’t need a chauffeur. It did not matter that the dark agouti was being friendly. Cyril just wanted to get back to the mountain. 

A single brow arched at the stranger’s response, a grim frown still tugging at the corners of his mouth. He did not understand the male’s intentions and he was beginning to worry that things could go awry if he was not careful. Cyril remained composed and did not allow his worry to show. That was the last thing he wanted, or needed. He just had to keep moving toward the mountain and not allow this weirdo stranger to slow him down. If it was a conversation he wanted Cyril could give that to him, more or less, but he just didn’t want to stop. He’d already been gone long enough and feared that if he lengthened his journey his mother would begin to worry and send Cheedo to look for him. Or go looking herself.

Then what are you? He asked, his voice clipped as he glanced over at the earthen male, his brow still cocked. Something about the wolf made Cyril uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he had silently stalked him through the trees… or maybe it was because the smile that he wore looked forced. Unnatural even. Maybe, just maybe, the stranger was trying to be friendly but Cyril was too much of an introvert to engage in proper conversation. He’d gotten accustom to being silent after his father’s death; speaking still felt like a chore to him. But he knew he couldn’t be silent forever, especially in circumstances like this.

His brows narrowed into a sharp V at the stranger’s words, accompanied by a dark frown spreading across his lips. What the—how’d he managed to cross paths with this weirdo? Making a beeline for the mountain was no longer a good idea, for he didn’t want the tawny male to discover where he had settled with his mother and Cheedo. Slowly he begun to change his course, detouring further north, toward his former home to throw the dark stranger off his trail. He really hoped the wolf did not intend on following him the entire way; Cyril was not in the mood for company. He did just fine on his own despite being young.

After the boy remained silent the scarred male spoke up once more, offering an apology followed by a half introduction. No name was given, just a rank and a pack name. An Omega, huh? What had this wolf done to earn him that place within the pack? Was he even supposed to be out this far? His tongue clucked against the roof of his mouth before he answered, his frown still pressed against his liquorice lips. Then why are you following me? He asked, growing bolder with each step he took. I’m nowhere near your pack; I have no intention of trespassing.

So leave me alone!