--

The changing details in the weather did not enhance his senses. But the breeze by the bay was known to be fresher in the flawed Lykoi’s opinion. Pale, naked feet carried him away, away from here, beyond the borders of the thistle kingdom. Soon, new scents would flow through his dark nostrils and the scenery would change. There was a spike of anticipation in his quiet serenity. Itachi had never truly been bound down by the chains of a pack life, and would always be free to wander his own path, but the group he belonged to brought him satisfaction, and while this loyalty was temporary, it was very real.

The salty shores were at some distance now, and the road he walked was overcome with summer’s growth. The multitude of colours winked at him, bobbing their heads at his arrival with some help from the soft wind brushing through the scenery. Along with the heavy perfume of flowers, there was another scent; that of a live, breathing canine. Itachi’s dark coat had been thrown away during the summer, but the man’s sword remained with him, carried in its sheath fastened in his belt. Pale fingers stroke against the shiny handle of the weapon, merely to be reminded that this time he would be prepared for violence.

Sunflowers dominated the scene, and he wandered into the odd, flowery forest, pushing the tall plants away as he walked, following the unknown wolf’s scent because there was familiarity there. It was in the blood.

--

Scarlet eyes focused on movement ahead; the first glimpse of the beast hiding amidst the sunflowers. Itachi’s pace slowed considerably, for the stranger suddenly seemed closer than he had anticipated. It did not take long before a merry voice was thrown into the serene air, destroying the tranquillity the flawed hybrid adored so much. The young Salsolan’s stone face did not change as he peered at the man that now was visible in the forest of sweet smelling flora. There was joy in the light steps, but the other canine’s movement brought the blonde hybrid to a halt, and pale fingers tightened around the sword’s sleek handle.

The nature of the other seemed merry, but Itachi’s intentions for seeking him out were simple, and he was by no means an ally. ”Keep your distance,” cool tones insisted, along with a narrowed set of sunset coated eyes. The Family member let his gaze strife the object in the optime’s hand, and rendered it harmless. ”What is your name?” Names could tell much about the lineage, and that was what he was curious about. Blonde ears leaned back with mild suspicion. Nowhere was safe, and in these lands existed only foes until there was evidence insisting otherwise.

--

The other heeded his words and ceased his merry approach immediately. A wise decision, for Itachi was known to be bold when he judged it necessary. He was untrusting of the world he lived in. Words rose in response, though ears merely flickered at this; dismissive of words that were just that: mere words. Words could not harm him, and they could not save him; they were useless in this setting. Pale fingers adorned with dark, silvery claws remained by the sword’s handle, though had turned motionless now when the other man’s body was still and beyond reach. Itachi could still not judge himself worthy of handling the blade, and would prefer this interaction to develop its relative peaceful nature. All he wanted was answers.

It was wrong to think that he was completely indifferent about the blood in his veins. He had sought the older male out because there existed curiosity about his family. How strange, but Itachi could not understand the reason for his motive to gather information. It was only accepted and acted upon; a rare impulse that he had not thought of resisting until it was too late. There was always the option to turn around and leave, but one step had been taken and another would soon follow.

More space was offered as the earthen shaded man took a step in the opposite direction, and the move was followed by more words; revealing what the blonde had desired. Ichika no Ho-en was the new group by the mountains. Were these previous followers of Dahlia de Mai? Intensity rose within blood red eyes at this thought. Their old alpha had lost his life by the Anatheman borders many months ago. Itachi had turned his back on the entire incident back then, but had changed his mind at a later point and returned to the scene of crime. A naked skull with tones of fleshy pink had been retrieved, and it was a gift for someone that ought to be special to the flawed Lykoi. Not this man before him, though the surname revealed close kinship to the late Conor Soul.

Quid pro quo did not apply to Itachi Lykoi. Did this Range have an adoptive father because the biological one was no more? ”A well known surname,” the blonde male complimented, paying no attention to the returning smile in the darker canine’s face. He had never met the terror named Haku Soul, but the histories had not died with the demon. ”It seems like the curse spared you,” he observed, light brown muzzle bobbing slightly.

--

The other proved to be more boyish than his younger relative. Disappointment tugged at the wolf face plain as a clouded, pessimistic day. Disapproval seemed fierce in red and green eyes, but Itachi cared little to adjust his demeanour merely because someone’s feelings were hurt. Insolent words rose instead of spewing out the answers Itachi desired, though the corners of the blonde’s lips seemed to curl upward just slightly as the words washed over his ears. The answer Range had sought had already been granted if he had taken the time and effort to see and hear. It was true that Itachi had offered only crumbs in return, but fragmented truths were better than nothing. Or not, according to the Soul male.

The strange boy bowed, and proved a vivid contrast to the unkind words served moments earlier. The red eyed hybrid did not adore the mixed signals he was being given at this moment. Then, Range stepped backwards and away from him, and it was the beginning of the end. It seemed like a rather strange way to depart, but perhaps it was purpose to the man’s movement that he failed to pick up. It was difficult to read other creatures, for Itachi knew only a minimum of emotions and their functions. The golden pelted male’s act was much simpler. He turned from the jogging man and let scarlet focus wander elsewhere. Ignorance was bliss, though he didn’t know if he should pity or envy the other for this.

Now, Itachi wished to feel the moist breath of sea against his face. Feet started to move in the direction of salty shores, away from the perfumed forests of sunlit faces..