Though he wasn't permitted to travel beyond the pack borders without an adult, Mercy did so anyway. He was getting larger and the time he spent with Crowe made him feel stronger and older than he actually was. The four month old pup had stretched out into the gangly, pre-adolescent phase and looked every bit a pup, rather than a small adult. His ears were still a bit too big, as were his paws, and his spindly legs didn't help him any. He was as ungainly as a colt, but he didn't feel any smaller than a mountain. So, while his mother had been gone for two days out exploring, he'd waited within the pack borders. But on the third day, he went exploring.

In truth, it was simply a matter of going to a lower altitude. There were much more trees at the base of the Pass, and the land grew lush and warm. There was less wind, and Mercy found it odd, as he walked along, that his mother did not let him come here. It seemed so much less hostile than the Pass and the mountain. This was definitely something he could do.

Intending to find his way back as easily and quickly as he could, so as to avoid getting in trouble, the young boy used scent markers to make a trail that was blatantly obvious. He could have easily followed the scent from his footpads but...He didn't want to take the chance. Here and there he scuffed the ground with his claws, rubbed his cheek against tree trunks and marked bushes with urine. It would have been the human equivalent of leaving a trail of fluorescent tape through the woods.

He found his way to the lake and looked out over it. He remembered how happy his mother and @Naira had been when they'd returned, having discovered that the wolves who'd used to live there had left. Triumphantly, though it had hardly been his battle, the boy lifted his tail and barked a victorious "Hah!" To no one in particular, before he waded in to play in the water.

Piracy. Stealing from those weaker than she- it had given her a rush that she'd fully enjoyed, and intended to do again. She'd have to be careful- or she'd end up bringing a pack of angry wolves to Nomad's Pass, if they were clever enough to track her back there. But Sagacity was a coy creature-- she meandered and bathed, and rid herself of the pack's scent along the way so that when she returned, she smelled more like a lone wolf than a pack wolf. It was only when she left that she smelled of Naira and her son, and the other pack wolves...But she was smart enough to cast that scent behind as soon as she was able to.

She'd nearly breached the borders, having made an arc so that @Harp could not track her back to the mountain, when she caught a familiar scent. Mercy. Her ears turned back and she picked up a trot. She was still far enough away from Nomad's Pass that it alarmed her to catch her son's scent so fresh on the wind...And no one else's. This meant two things- that he was beyond the borders, and that he'd gone without an escort.

She found him soon enough, as the boy had left a very obvious trail behind him. Protectively, Sagacity covered the scent markers with dirt or her own scent. If anyone was to be tracked, it would be her. She suppressed a snarl when she saw him, blithely playing in the shallow waters of the lake, but a small growl still made its way to her throat and beyond her lips. She came to a standstill and allowed the thrum of her voice to reach him, allowing him to deduce on his own that he was in trouble.

Caught.

Mercy had just begun to lose himself in his play, splashing around in the shallow waters, when a low growl caught his attention and immediately made him cower in the water, chin just above the surface. His ears slicked back against his head and his lips pulled back in an appeasing grimace as he looked up only to see his mother standing there, legs stiff. She looked so formidable just then, with her muscles rigid and ears perked. Though she was not a large wolf, Mercy felt just then that she was more powerful and intimidating than any other he'd seen. Very little was comparable to a mother's rage, and he should have known better than to provoke it.

He was at a loss for what to do. Something told him to creep forward out of the water and run all the way back to the den where he belonged, but instead he froze, crouched in the water. He suddenly felt cold, having come to a standstill, but didn't shiver. His lips fell back into place and he bit his lower lip apprehensively, avoiding eye contact with his mother. In that moment, he wished he could simply evaporate into thin air and zoom somewhere else, far from the ice of his mother's glare. He looked this way and that, determined to find some way of pleasing his mother so that he wouldn't be in so much trouble, but he couldn't think of anything to say or do, and felt too intimidated to even apologize. He suddenly noticed that he'd lost control of his bladder in the water moments ago, and felt his stomach cringe at the thought of ever doing so when he wasn't shoulder-deep in water. He certainly didn't feel very tough or proud now.

Her son, who'd looked so bright and vibrant only moments ago, now cowered like a baby in the shallow water and she kept her piercing gaze on him to see if he'd ever look up at her or try to say anything. The boy avoided eye contact as much as he could, wilting under the fierce persistence of her yellow eyes. Senselessly, and like a rabbit frozen in fear, her son stayed right where he was, unable to make any decisions as to what he should do and it weighed on Sagacity. He should've come out of the water and apologized, instead he looked as though he was trying not to be seen, or to avoid punishment by becoming a statue. She waited for a while to see if he'd snap out of it, but he didn't. She'd have to provoke him.

"Out of that water, now," She commanded, and still refused to take her gaze from him or soften her posture. Though she knew it'd be hard for him to approach someone so stern, he'd have to do it. If he was to live as a part of a pack, he would have to learn that there were repercussions for every action he'd make if he didn't think things through. When rules were broken, punishments were put in order. She knew that it was partially her fault- she was a scout and was constantly away for her job, but that did not mean there weren't others who could care for him, or that he could use that as an excuse. "Come." She said, finally breaking from her pose and turning. It'd be straight back to the Pass for him, and she'd be there the whole time to make sure he regretted his little venture.

As soon as the command was issued, the boy snapped out of his awkward, frozen state and traipsed clumsily out of the water. He paused to shake his coat out once, but did so in such a quick and hasty fashion that he continued to drip water as he made his way up the muddy embankment toward his mother. With each step the soaking wet boy sank closer and closer to the ground, until his stomach rubbed against the grass. His mother had begun to walk, but he was quite hesitant to walk at her side. Instead, he moved into a place which was both to the side of her and behind, keeping what he considered a safe distance from her heels.

His heart beat furiously- what was she going to do to him? She looked so fierce and stern, and still he hadn't found his voice. In his mind he apologized over and over, but fear kept the boy from voicing this. He knew that if he spoke, she'd start talking and he dreaded what she would have to say- he knew that it was coming and wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

Would she ever forgive him? For the boy it seemed as though his happy days were over- never again would his mother smile and play with him, laugh or take him for scouting trips with her along the borders and a bit beyond them. He knew that a stern punishment was coming, and swallowed heavily as he walked, water running off him as though he was walking through a downpour.

She moved with a stiffness in her legs as though the bones and joints had become somewhat frozen. She could hear him walking behind her, and flicked an ear back when she heard the patter of water as it dripped from her son's coat. She'd heard him shake and had assumed he'd done so hard enough to get all the excess water from his coat, but it was only when she took a quick glance back at her bedraggled and sodden boy that she realized how wet he still was. She glanced at him sharply and exhaled. She stopped suddenly. "For god's sake, Mercy, dry yourself off properly." She snapped.

She was aware that he was a child, young and naive. She was aware that she had made mistakes when she was young too- but she remembered the stern words she'd received from her own parents, and tried to justify the fact that she was being so harsh with her own son. She didn't like it, but she was angry with him. Had he been small enough, she might've been tempted to pick him up and give him a bit of a shaking herself- which made it even more obvious to Sage that she really had no idea what she was doing. Frustrated with herself, she began to speak again, her tone still very sharp.

"What did I tell you about leaving the pack, Mercy?" She asked. "What were the rules that I told you not to break?" She asked, just as she began to move again, having allowed him the time to shake his coat out thoroughly.

He cringed as soon as his mother began to speak, and though part of him was grateful for the opportunity to shake the rest of the water out of his fur, he wilted and felt a lump rise in his throat at the command. He stopped and shook his coat like there was no tomorrow. He was far enough away from his mother- he'd made sure to do that- that he wouldn't spray her with water droplets. He shook once, twice, thrice- until he could feel his fur become light and spiky, no longer weighed down by moisture. He felt warmer, but as soon as his mother spoke again, he felt that warmth instantly leave his skin and felt the chill settle in again.

He sniffed slightly as she questioned him, and felt heat rise only in his cheeks. He turned his gaze away and gritted his teeth until she finished speaking, and after a moment's hesitation he spoke. "Don't leave the pack without an adult," He said unhappily, and felt the lump in his throat grow. He didn't like being asked that question- he knew his mother knew the answer, and she was making him say it simply to make a point. Well, she was certainly succeeding at that- he knew, now, not to do what his mother told him not to do. But he had a sinking feeling that it wasn't over- and the boy was right.

The reply came in a small, dejected voice, but it did little to satisfy Sagacity, whose anger had still not dissipated."Don't leave the pack without an adult." She reiterated. "I've told you time and time again, Mercy. You know you're not supposed to leave the pack without an adult, and here you are, outside of our boundaries by your own, playing in a lake. What possessed you to go directly against the rules, Mercy?" She asked, hardly waiting for an answer. She exhaled, a sharp puff of breath which indicated that she was very far from being finished.

"You could've gotten hurt, or lost- I saw the trail you left, and some other wolf could've found it too, and followed it to find you. And you know what? They might've been a bad wolf, Mercy, a very bad wolf, and you might'e even been killed. Killed, Mercy- it'd be the end and it'd be because you didn't follow the rules." She said, exasperation singing in her tone. She knew she was saying very hurtful things, but it helped to ease her anger simply knowing that she was making him feel bad. It was cruel, and it wasn't proper form as a parent- but what did she know about parenting anyway?

"I could've lost you; you're my son, my only son. What you did was very stupid, Mercy. You could've been killed." She said, finally coming to silence to allow the words to sink in, without even having taken a look at the effect she'd had on her son.

Mercy cringed as his mother repeated his words, and a faint scowl came to his features. He continued to frown, his face becoming more and more contorted by anguish as his mother continued to speak to him- no, at him, without allowing him a moment to interject. Not that he would have been able to do so, if he'd tried- but nor did he want to. He didn't want to say anything, lest it put him in even more trouble...And he wasn't sure what she'd do to him then.

The lump in his throat caused him to hold his breath as tears, hot and stinging, sprang to his eyes. He stared at the ground as hard as he could, trying to keep them from spilling over. But the longer he went, and the more his mother spoke, the worse he felt and eventually they dripped from his eyes, not even touching his cheeks as they fell straight to the ground before being replaced by another. The boy continued to hold his breath until darkness swam before his eyes and he finally drew in a shaky breath, as quietly as he could so that he didn't draw his mother's attention.

He felt so ashamed of himself, and didn't feel as though he was worthy of her anymore. Finally, the boy halted in his tracks and with his head downcast, gently sniffed as the tears continued to drip to the ground as the water had before, and he didn't even bother to resist the sob that came to his throat, accompanied by words which were only barely forced out.

"I'm not your son."

She hadn't noticed that her son was upset. She hadn't seen the way the tears had dripped silently from his eyes, nor had she even seen him stop in his tracks. She'd been so preoccupied by getting her own anger and frustration out that she'd failed to notice the effect she was having on her own son. It was only when he finally spoke, in a voice that was as shaky as willow branches in the wind that she wheeled around, mouth open and ready to launch another set of accusations at him- but when the meaning of his words sank in, she froze, mouth still agape, looking at her son who looked dejected and lost, saddened beyond words. He looked alone.

She closed her mouth and gritted her teeth as she looked at him. She was still angry- no, she was still furious that she'd caught him out on his own. She should have seen that her son was only following in her tracks- she'd been taken by wanderlust when she'd been his age too- but she was convinced that that was different. Wolves weren't as cruel when she was a pup. Things had been different...But she was incredibly biased and blind to that fact.

She moved toward him then, lips pulling tight over her teeth. When she reached him she still stood stiffly, not bending toward him in any comforting way. When she spoke, though, her voice was low and calm. "I am your mother." She said. "And you are my son. Don't you ever say that again."