February 8th; Early afternoon; Mist; -12 ° F, -24 ° C

It had been a year now since he had left it all behind - his pack, his newfound home, prosperity, prospective students, fame... and Zenyatta felt no different than the very day he had descended from his place on the rocky heights that were Transcendence Tor. Once a guru, always a guru, he had decided; and, no one was ever going to take that away from him. For a year, he traveled. To the reaches to the east then back towards the west, and now he continued southbound onto the meads that were the Lowlands. With only a frozen river to keep him company, the journey had been peaceful until the sudden and startling discovery of a circular formation of... what was that?

With caution, the rogue approached the peculiar landmark. He stretched himself forward on his toe until he felt he might faceplant into the snow from trying to sniff the pointed tips of the deer antlers. "Hmm," he mused to himself. Strange.

His grey-crowned head lifted up beneath the open skies, what traces of the clouds he could see amidst the gray haze that surrounded him. It would seem that Spring would be delayed a while yet. He paused to take in the endless sea of mist, listening to the world before staring back at the antlers. It was too quiet here. The plains-bound birds were probably nestled down in their frost-bitten nests, field mice and other rodents were warm beneath the ground, and the deer were all tucked away in the trees. His eyes had closed as he thought of these things. The warmth, security, and familiarity of belonging and being safe... But this was not the reason why he wandered; Zenyatta longed to instill this sort of consciousness in others.

Thinking of others, though, he realized that instead of meandering any further, he had the unsheltered lands around him at his disposal. His brow quirked as he eyed the Antler Ring; whether it had been constructed by others or not, it seemed to have been appointed as some sort of sacred place. This had to be some sort of sign that others were close. Raising his nose to the hidden Northern Star, he sent a warbling song into the clouded wilderness, alerting anyone near the area that he had arrived and was in search of kinship.

With his head level once more, Zen waited. His ears swung to one side and then the other, like two triangular satellite dishes waiting for nearby signals. None came. It elicited another rather thoughtful "Hmm." from him. But, just as he had made up his mind to leave, the sounds of snow and dead grass crunching underfoot began to grow closer.

The grey stray's eyes went to the ground as if the approacher might somehow immediately spawn before him. Instead, a curious 'Hello' came forth and Zen's gaze came to take in the figure of a wolf. One who was just as colorless but much larger... younger... The footsteps might have stopped its lively trot, but the distance between them was comfortable for first contact.

"Greetings," he lent with a dip of his muzzle. "I am Zenyatta. How does the world find you today?" For most it was an odd question, but for one such as Zen, it was the very first question he asked each wolf he met. Most often than not, troubles were spewed out from their hearts, dripping from their tongues as they cried in agony for rest. Sometimes they kept a tight grasp on their solemn facades, only to allow the guru closer and closer to them until they finally broke. And, other times, they spoke of violence and of greed. They were challenges, all the same. What this youth would speak of would be the first impression the nomad would receive - a chance to evaluate whether or not his help was needed here.

"Ah, I’m Alastor," the boy stated. Zen offered a small smile and a small wag of his tail, most especially after Alastor mentioned that he was well enough to not have any complaints. "Is it treating you okay?” The nomad could sense the awkwardness but was not affected by it in the least. If anything, to ask the same thing in different words was still polite, considerate even.

"Conditions have been ideal," he admitted, his voice continuing in a level, nearly monotone manner. "Though, one only has enough patience in anticipation for Spring."

"This place seems to be a pretty popular spot," Alastor then said, "I’ve already met another wolf here before. What brings you out here?

Zen tilted his own head in thought, but only for a few mere seconds. There were many things he sought since leaving his pack lands. He took a moment to consider the order of importance of each one, to list them all in his head before he revealed to the yearling what it was that had brought him out this far south and well away from the place he had once called home. "I seek adversity - strife that is, perhaps, not my own. I hail from the north in search of enlightenment. Is there anything I may assist you - your mate, your pack, you family - with?"

When the youth told him straightforwardly that he would rather not confide in those he did not know, Zen's smile grew. For one, it was only fair, but the nomad had been here before. When he had dealt with the Leaders and meek subordinates who sought his counsel in secret, he gained their trust through time. Those who still thought of him as suspicious simply cast him out, and off he went with nothing more than a simple blessing. As for Kino, his simple request was met with another nod, one that was more than just a quick downward dip of his muzzle.

"You can confide in me," he answered, his stance seeming more grounded than before as he stood tall before the yearling. "I've not made connections here yet; but, what worries you have, Alastor, I will help you seek freedom and relief from them." One of his ivory paws, muddied from his journeys, lifted from the ground before coming back down in the snow. His weight shifted and his black-tipped tail fell now to a more relaxed position behind him. "I have helped many - Leaders, royalty, the cubs of Leaders, the rebels who seek to tear down the Leaders, the grieving and the sick, the bands of free spirits, other wanderers, and lost ones - and some have sought the healing of my pack, but I believe there is work to be done well-beyond the northern reaches."

Altruism and Zenyatta really could have been synonyms at this point but, what all that the rogue had said, he said with utmost assurance. "It is my calling, to help others understand the world as I have seen it and, if it is my confidence you need, then you shall have it."

"Alright," the yearling stated. Zen's ears drew forward, his interest fully piqued as Alastor sat down. The nomad mirrored him; no longer did his eyes roam to the strangeness that was the perfect circular formation the shed antlers made. Instead, his eyes rested on Alastor's face, his focus solely on his mouth as each word was shared. The boy had one clear intention - to create a pack but his worries already had firm hold of him.

Alastor had lost his mother at a young age (too young, Zen believed), and his grief had been poorly received by the rest of his pack. The admittance that he could see his own faults had Zen proffer a nod and a smile; that he could also see the faults of others, though, had the rogue tilt his head in thought. What was more distressing was how Alastor told him that his own emotions were the culprit, how it hurt others and how it had caused him to feel as though he couldn't trust them. The youth didn't know how to fix it, his fear becoming much clearer upon Zen's realization that he was at risk of losing everything, not for the first time, but again.

Zen offered another kind, close-lipped smile. His tail was set again in a gentle wag on the ground; it parted the snow where it was able across the grass-covered ground. It couldn't have been a better start to his adventures within Relic Lore... This was what he lived for.

"Ah, but Alastor," he started, his tone warming on the subtlest of notes. "You have taken to trusting me. You haven't known me for more than afternoon and yet you opened yourself up." His right forepaw lifted from the ground, tucking to his chest for a moment while he paused to collect a few more thoughts. "I believe I have quite a few things I can lend you, but I must trust that you will take them to heart." His paw went back into the snow.

"If you intend to form a pack," he began again. "I will gladly be at your disposal for however long you need me. Should I find one day that you no longer have no use for me, I will take my leave. From now until that day, I am here for you. You have my trust." His smile grew a little wider, "Let me tell you something my master once told me when I was as young and troubled as you are now: When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be."