Desperate times called for desperate measures. Being lone had it's advantages, sure. No one to depend on, and no one that depended on you. Hector was always one for independence. At the same time, he craved the attention of others. He wanted to be admired. He wanted power, somehow. He wanted responsibility. A rather strange combination, but then again, his desires had always been the opposite of straight forward. More importantly, he wanted to learn. The last time he had been in a pack, it had been a year ago. He was but a yearling then. Now, he could contribute more. Now he could keep his place.
The tall wolf had recently recovered from a pretty nasty wound. He'd got it from a trap a human had set out for him. Specifically for him, yes, as he'd been stealing from their camp for about a month prior to said injury. This was a turning point. He could have lost a paw, instead, he lost a bit of skin and a lot of dignity. The wound had been deep, and it had taken almost three weeks for his limp to cease. The sight of regenerating cells at the site of wound was a thankful one, yet even as his skin was healing, his caution was not. Joining a pack would solve this. If he could put his skills to use, maybe others would aid him with skills of their own. At least, he was pretty sure that was how a pack worked. He'd never known how to hunt, and decided that it was best to maybe leave this fact out of his introduction, to whomever greeted him at the borders. Unless absolutely necessary, of course.
Would withholding information about his skills be a lie? Not necessarily. A white lie, maybe. Hector didn't really see anything wrong with white lies. Or full-on lies, for that matter. The lithe, dark wolf raised his nose and sniffed the air. He was close, and he was almost ready. The boy stretched, and picked himself from his sitting position, to survey his surroundings with more interest. He felt almost eager, but also indifferent. Indifferent to any outcomes of this experience. If he came out defeated, he would pick himself up.
There was a shallow river ahead of him, and the pack's scent came from further up the river, in the northern direction. Smoothly, he stepped in to the river. He took a drink; this calmed his thoughts and cooled him down, so he immediately stopped the panting he had been doing as a result of travel. Then, he washed his scent as best as he could from his thick coat. His paws, he paid particular attention to, bathing from them the red dirt he had picked up from an earlier location. He did not want many questions, he wanted a fresh start. He was a nobody for the moment, and this identity was a preferred one.
The young, silent brute crossed the river finally, and let his coat dry in the reasonable sun. Mainly to hide the fact he wanted to hide. At this point, he made his presence known, repeatedly walking up and down a small portion of the pack's border. He did not need to howl or make noises; they would know he was here. While he was waiting, he let his tail droop low enough to be submissive, but not low enough to seem cowering. He didn't want to anger the pack, but the last thing he wanted was to give the impression he was weak.
(This post was last modified: Jun 16, 2014, 01:07 PM by Hector.)