Ever since his own banishment, Z had found his way in the west, killing when it pleased him and causing trouble between packs whenever it suited. The lanky male had delighted in bringing about ruin to entire packs with even a single act. He'd lost count to how many wars he'd caused. Well, that was a lie. He hadn't. Four. Four wars in three years. He was hoping to up that number to four per year, but he had a lot more ground to cover for that sort of thing. And what sort of war monger would he be without followers?
That's where Camio came into play. Banking on his brother's puphood admiration for him, Zerxes intended to beguile his mini-me into joining the game.
His targets were ones of convenience rather than research. Z rarely stuck with plans, opting instead for spontaneity to up the wow factor of his actions. As such, any pack scent he came across was a delightful opportunity. Aside from learning his little brother had come this way, Z had also heard of the relative peace the packs within Relic Lore lived in. That would change.
The lean rouge and tawny male ambled his way right through the middle of a herd of musk oxen, delighting in the way they scrambled away from him and forged a path. Like royalty! One day, wolves would react the same to his presence. One day soon.
He was close. Camio's scent was faint on the wind, but not stale. Z lifted his red and cream muzzle skyward and gave his distinct melodic howl he had no doubt Camio would recognize. With his summoning complete, the agouti male settled his frame along the edge of a rather large pond, paws a hairsbreadth away from dipping into the water.