His paws lead him past the borders on the gloomy day – above, the skies rolled, grey and threatening to break out rain or possibly thunder at any moment. The weather bothered him little.. after the past winter, rain was welcomed by the pale regal.

With the pups nestled at Borlla’s side, the Argyris man strode across the lines marked as his own, winding down the creek that complimented their home. Phineas did not look for anything in particular – his eyes strayed to the area about him, seeking any tracks that might lead to a potential hunt. The Glen pack had sat for too long, waiting for winter to pass.. it was time once more to run together, and to do just that, he fully intended to celebrate the birth of his children with a feast.

Yet it was not potential prey he would come across. A familiar voice sluiced the air – one he did not trust and had made as much clear. Neoma, however, still remained within the ranks, surpassing his expectations of what her intentions had been. With a wayward sigh, the pale wolf prowled forward, his ivory pelt bristling as the wind swept past him, reminding him once more a storm was coming.

Coming to view, the fiery-eyed male came across the sleek black of Neoma’s figure, his eyes only briefly looking to her before taking in the stranger. He had missed the conversation, having only heard their drifting voices from before, though it was clear the stranger was nervous by the simple shuffle of her paws and the way her ears had slid back to her skull. Neoma, he greeted, casting her a questioning gaze. Was she terrorizing rogues, now?