Gent had long since ceased his stalking, traveling now at a casual lope. Stealth seemed to be nothing but a waste of focus the further he traveled; what he was looking for did not exist, the wintry white hand of god seemed to have wiped it clear from the face of the earth. So then what was he still doing, traveling this far south? He was a bit of a ways from home now, with nothing to show for his pains. Perhaps it was time to turn back.



Baby blues drifted, lifting to the heights of the pass that borded the odd grove, the peaks just barely visible as the sky swirled a rare color of grays and faint ceruleans. The snows had taken to resting, and the over all calm in the atmosphere only served to embellish the intangible dynamism that seeped from the ground beneath his paws. It reminded him of the woods that had become the Pass wolves' winter domain, and only seemed to further indicate that it was time to return.



Halting, he took a moment to muse over this. The woods stood apart in the health of their foliage, but the feel of them was the same. Perhaps if he kept moving forward, the foliage would deteriorate and he would find himself at Hollowheart Keep's doorstep, an infinite loop, the rest of the world completely cut away from them by the season's tantrums. What was the saying? You could only get so far before you start coming back?




Or maybe there was something out here.



Gent pulled in a large huff of air, fully analyzing the stray scent of a fellow wolf. She was young, and belonged to an unfamiliar pack. Intrigued, the boy set forth once more. It was a short distance between them, and she was already traveling in his direction; within moments, he launched himself up onto a wind-built bank of snow and surveyed his surroundings, anticipating catching sight of the girl.



"Olly olly oxen free," he muttered, reclining in wait for her appearance.