Tagg did not get lost often, but it would figure that he would get lost now.
He’d gone out to try and track down a herd of deer for hunting when a fog rolled in. He got turned around, and the next thing he knew, he had no idea where he was. What should have been a few days turned into a several week excursion as he tried to figure out which direction home was.
Finally the fog cleared up and he was able to head towards the mountain. He had wandered a lot further than he’d thought. The pack scent had even faded from his coat, something his found both frustrating and terrifying. Vespertio had made it clear that there were no third chances.
But he wouldn’t send him off, would he? He didn’t mean to get lost. He didn’t want to spend so much time away from his mate and child. He was trying to find them food. He was trying to help the pack. Surely the pack patriarch would understand.
The veteran didn’t even want to think about what he’d do if he didn’t.
After what seemed like forever, he finally reached the border. He paused, resisting the urge to immediately go find Moon. The pack scent was gone from his pelt. He needed to ask permission to enter the borders. He tipped his head back and called for his family.
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