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The horse was uneasy. Its legs moved restlessly about despite the fact that they were holding their position at the border. Maska, however, was calmness reincarnate. The only thing which moved about him was his cloak, dancing with every little movement of his equine companion. The four figures stood tall, each on their own horse and some with their spiritual companions at the ready. Sikyatavo's nose twitched almost nervously, and if you had not known him, you'd think it was the case. Rather, the twitch was that of impatience, and he glanced upwards at Maska, anticipating action. There was no time to linger here.
Glancing around at his surroundings, the gray wolf quickly made the decision to press further and cross AniWaya's scented border. After all, this land was as much his own as anyone else's: he doubted any True AniWayan had not been welcomed with open arms. To his knowledge, quite a few had come here from the Great Tribe, mostly family or close relations to the Utinas or the Amaras. There was no need for caution with three Guardians as his companions either way, and he did not fear any problems from outsiders who might fail to recognise his seal. One couldn't know how well such outsiders had been taught in AniWayan ways, and he had heard tales of Dawali's flexibility from those who had traveled here and back. Still, he doubted that the red wolf was dumb: he would surely recognise Maska's seal, as would his "Council".
The gray wolf lifted his hand and he made a sharp, whistling sound, signalling his horse to keep moving, and Wematin and the Guardians to move forward along with him. Scents would easily lead them to the tribe's dwellings, but the easier signal to follow was the smoke from their Great Fire, dim against the evening sky. Soon, its light would appear to them through the vegetation, and they would easily find the AniWayans.
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