The past few months had done nothing to wear at the familiarity of the land he was slipping into. Cobalt Corrie had his heart and his pride, having flourished greatly under his and Raela's command; yet Relic Lore would always be home to the looming beast. The choking forest with its thickets and thorns welcomed him like an old friend, the growth caressing through his blue-black fur and the shadows of the canopy obscuring his hulking form. He could taste the pack ahead on the tip of his tongue, the markers steadily growing in strength. Secret Woodlands. The memories were abundant, a reverie he had happily been consumed by the moment the wood had transitioned into Northern Eden.
His long strides drew to a steady close. Gent took a deep breath, a smile curling his wolfish lips. His thick tail swished behind him, and for a moment the alpha merely took in the warm stillness of the air and the chittering of the forest around him, felt the vibrations of the loamy earth and the strength of his travelled legs. The solitude of the five day journey had done him well, but he was ready for that stretch to be broken.
Tipping back his skull, he broke through the summer air with his voice, strong and amiable in timbre as it requested the presence of the monarchs of Secret Woodlands.