The world might bring changes, but Skoll was too stubborn to let them shake up his plans, such as they were. He knew that he needed to keep up his patrols of the southland, working to protect his pack at one of its more vulnerable times. He hadn’t stuck out the full meeting, but he knew there would be dissent in the ranks, however subtle. He still thought he was right, however; no one had really done anything to make sure the Kingdom would stay safe, and damned if he was going to sit and gossip with the rest of them.
The young Lieutenant loped through the hills in his lupus form, exchanging strength and speed for sheer endurance. He preferred it this way and felt the most wolflike, knowing that he could keep this pace for almost a day if he needed to. Slow and steady won the race, and it certainly won him exhausted prey a few times.
In this case, there was nothing for him to chase, but he enjoyed having the energy to roam around for as long as he wanted, making sure that nothing dangerous lurked in the hills. He wasn’t sure how Silvano would help the Court, but Skoll knew he wouldn’t be idle no matter how the new Constable turned out to be.
His brow furrowed, and he gave the ground a sniff as he approached the lands of the former Crimson Dreamer. It still made him shudder to cross where scent markers had faded so long ago, and he hoped that the Sadira’s words about Cour des Miracles staying strong were true. He didn’t want to see his pack mates scatter to the four winds.
The boy was about to go on his merry way when another sniff brought the odor of another wolf—ash and marsh, wapiti and wood. It stirred a memory that made him unconsciously lick the tip of his dark nose, where a pale scar marred the leather, and his tail started to wag over his straight back. He trotted to the edge of the water, his paws kicking the smooth pebbles in the shallows, and threw a grin at the agouti wolf.
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