Roaming the familiar woods, the man was still on one debate. Seek the wolves who lived in the north part of the forest, or visiting the den he had been born in. He was a lot closer to the later of ideas. Renier had wandered away from the Cut Rock River pack despite how he had claimed he would not. It hadn't been his intention, but after seeing Taima, talking with her...he had had a long debate through the last miserable hold of winter. Should he tell his parents the news? Taima was alive, but she had had no interest to come with him. What good would that do? Tear open old wounds? Bring on a new wave a disappointment? He had almost...almost gone back to the Reach in mind to slowly break the past events it to the Lyalls. As the days dragged on, he recalled well enough why he had departed the lands. Those reasons were still present. It seemed cruel to go all that way back to tell them of their missing daughter just to leave again. One day, yes he would return. He knew what awaited him. Before he was set for one life, he wanted to keep some of this freedom. This...unknown.

A sudden wind began forcefully shoving his coat the wrong way. An exasperated breath fell from his lips, and he hunched his heavy shoulders. He had saw the ominous clouds, but had hoped the storm would blow itself out before moving further. Apparently not, as tipping his black nose toward the sky the air was thick with the perfume of rain. Even if he wanted to reach the River pack it was unlikely he would reach it before getting soaked. Clicking his teeth, ears flattened to the back of his head. The grey, and russet colored rogue began to make his way to the remnants of Grizzly Hollow.

Maybe he would have made it there in time. Another grumble of thunder briefly drowned out the noise of the wind, and golden eyes caught sight of a moving shadow up, and to his left. The Lyall did not stop, but his paws aired on the side of caution when he realized it was a single, black female. Was she out of her mind? It looked like she was hunting for something. Out of habit a temporarily scowl etched his features, but he forced his tawny mask blank swiftly. The young wolf could not quite hold his thoughts to remain in his head. Over the wind he called out, "I think you'll only have luck getting rained on, miss!" The miss was only another habit, oddly enough.

First he wondered if she had heard him, or simply didn't care. But her dual colored eyes were soon looking him over. The fur along his shoulders bristled from the chill, and the sharpness in her feminine tone.
Go ahead, give me a reason to snap, he thought. It was pretty childish to be afraid of a little water. Though one by one the raindrops that missed the treetops fell upon his coat he didn't mind the shower. Out of practicality he rather not catch cold. He would be useless sick. Who but himself would care? Explaining all this seemed stupid,pathetic, and pointless. "Oh, yes that's why I'm running round like prey on the run." He sarcastically bit back. Were all females so grumpy? Or was he fortunate enough to find them?

What he did not expect was her to be eating her own words. The air above them clashed like the hungry belly of an enormous beast and surprised the swarthy wolf. Ren had no retort, not even a flash of amusement. He was far from eager to continue any game of witty come backs. He was ready to move on, get somewhere. It seemed that there were other plans for him in mind. The rain began clattering, pounding everything beneath it with a more urgent force. That was when it grew more than an annoyance so it was with no better place to go he followed her beneath the safety of the same tree. Once in closer proximity he realized the scent hanging onto her coat was of the River, and that he had probably seen her around. Shit. She was probably one of the last wolves he should be sharing shelter with. Hey, he decided not to mention it. He hadn't been in the pack that long. It wasn't like he had went out of his way to be part of it. Did it matter? Hard as he tried to say something, he couldn't find any words that wouldn't lead back to Cut Rock River.

The rogue had to refrain from saying "no shit" in reply. The best he could do was give a reserved nod in agreement. He didn't know what was surprising about it. It was raining pretty fierce, and the logical thing was to get out of it...even with strange company. There were two reasons for him to hold reluctance. One was her with association with Cut Rock River, and in general he was wondering if dark ladies had it out for him or something. His black cat of the world for seven years bad luck. Since it seemed he was terrible at making small talk she decided to try to change that. He was indifferent, but answered her. "Renier, and you are?" If they were stuck in this together he rather do something to pass the time. He would try to get some useful information.

Giving a gentle shake of his crown to rid of collected water he withdrew closer to the trunk, reclining to his haunches. He was still a bit surprised how quickly the storm had come, but least his coat would keep him warm despite his thinning sides. An empty stomach was the easiest thing to ignore. He cocked his head, his golden eyes drifted to her, realizing for the first time she had eyes like his mother's; they didn't match. The Lyall did well hiding his surprise other than simply meeting her gaze. In his head he was wondering was this another sign? Was that blasphemy to believe that? Clearing his throat to distract himself, he strummed his deep vocals. "What's a pack wolf doing out here by herself? Is food still that scarce?"

Ren viewed her with a thoughtful façade, wondering if she was suddenly hesitant to say more. She hadn't struck him as that kind of wolf. Was the rogue a bit more intimidating in close quarters? Ryvet would have snorted at that idea. Especially now with how much weight he had lost. He did look like hell, and felt that way.

Russet ears softly flicked, and off handily he blinked while placing the answer away with her face. He was unlikely to forget either, not with a face like hers. He couldn't help wonder, "Do you have a nickname Bastet?" It seemed too pretty to cut apart.

"Yeah, my mum told me it means deciding warrior. I'm not quite sure I live up to that," he replied with a casual toss of his shoulders. Did that sound as stupid to her ears as it had to his? He was a full grown wolf, did he really need to mention his mother? It was likely a reflection on how much he missed his family, and what a failure to them he believed he was. He was no "deciding" warrior.

The rain seemed to be coming down more gently, and he too could feel the bite of cold, nibbling his bones. Contouring his muscles in an attempt to keep his heat, it bothered him to see her tremble. The Lyall did not make a move to change it. Instead he acknowledged her answer with a nod, casting his warm golden stare to the ground. "That's good," he managed to comment, though he was thinking there was no way they would take him back if that was so. Especially, after he had left with a worthless promise. Caught off guard, his silver mask jerked up. "No, it's not that. I just I can't be in two places at once." The words came out a bit more quickly than he meant. They probably didn't make much sense. "I mean, I should be with my family, but I want to make my own fate. I hate to go to a pack, and leave again."

Once he thought highly of himself, if being the oldest had made him simply the 'best', blessed with greatness. That had not lasted long, realizing each of his brothers, and sisters had their own gifts. He was nothing special. But mostly, he was hardly anything without them. Especially now. He was just another loner, looking for his next meal. Afraid to commit his life to anything further. If the illness of his father had crushed his past ambitions. Turning him into a scared child beneath his adult facade.

"It's a pretty ... the way it is. I hope it's meaning is a foretelling." he commented, making what was a smile in return, but seemed only like a slight lift of his lip. The rogue wasn't sure what to think of her compliment. Really, he should have been reveled by it. There was little he felt worthy of.

A crooked, dominant smile produced itself on his muzzle. It was no sign of sinecerty nor happiness. "I would be tempted, but since I seem to have an honest bone in my body, I have to tell you I was once part of it. Lat winter. I left soon after vowing to stay and so I doubt either Kisla or Maksim would care to see me again." He had never gotten to speak to Maksim, get any answers to his questions. He wasn't sure they mattered any more. There had to be some dark mark upon him, his words worthless by his actions. The Lyall collected his mask into indifference, thinking Bastet should not want more to do with him either.

Ren could not help, the quick twitch of his russet ears, drawn to her delicate tone. Pleasantly surprised by her offer, because it did not seem an exiguous thing. It was not in him to accept that for many reasons. With rapid intent he meant to end it. "That's kind of you Bastet, but I am not sure what I hope to find." Though he wanted to say, but I'm glad I found you, he did not. He wasn't sure how true those words were, if his confession(since it seemed like a crime in his mind) would drive her away.