It was funny to think that the lively man had once been trembling on the floor, welcoming death with open arms.

Oh, how long had he stood pondering his possibilities, weighing up every little detail of his past, wallowing in thought. How long he had studied and analysed every single piece of his life, pools swirling with intense emotion that even the wisest would be unable to decipher. It was a terrible thing to be on the breach of insanity when only a few moments before you were perfectly sane. But he had done it, had he not? He had burned up every little bit of knowledge, every jigsaw-puzzle piece, and slotted everything together. His mind was complete, and made up. It all seemed to be falling into place now, everything suddenly made sense and it was not confusing anymore. Frodo had came from a land where everything was unsettled and killing was regular, murder a thing of right. But he’d escaped, and done the thing he’d set out to do. He had come back; come back to what he liked to call home. He was learned, his mind hosting a large array of intellect now. He felt invincible. As if nothing could defeat him.

Mr Silvertongue was less cautious, ripe with the confidence that he’d fulfilled traversing back to AniWaya. And so, instead of taking the used path, a commoners passageway, he had slunk beneath the canopy of trees, darting in and out of the shrubs, jumping over fallen logs and leaping the rivers and streams, breath barely escaping his maw as he was quick footed and sure on the darkened, dusty ground. As Frodo neared his destination, his footing began to pick up the traces of mud, of dirt underfoot, and he realized with a sniff that he was close to a place he so fondly remembered. Not clearly remembered, not through pictures in his mind, but the remembrance in the womb of his heart.

His eyes peeked up from his curly coat now, his pelt mostly an onyx black, yet his face a mixture of colours- like paints swirled together on a pallet. The golden and black faced boy swept away auburn hair and gave a low whistle, and his horse caught up with him in a thrice. He’d traversed the rest of Serena Reserve on foot, with the horse Strider mimicking his path like a shadow. Always a shadow. In his right mind, the horse would always let Frodo think he was the leader. But the equine thought very differently about the matters of leading and following.

And it was on the stroke of midnight that Frodo and the horse arrived at the borders of AniWaya. It had once been their home, but only for a short while, and Frodo felt it wouldn’t be so pleasant just walking in uninvited. The youth had ran the short distance from the end of Serena Reserve all the way to this territory marker; at a low, typical werewolf crouch he stood now, basking in the darkness and shadow.

Ralla had been his guide a couple of mintues ago, but he’d been too eager, and at the last moment of the journey, he had ran off. He hoped the lady would not take it as an offence, and surely she would realize why he had been so fierce in his leaving her. She would be thanked for her efforts later. Frodo was a cloaked figure, drenched in shadow, next to a white stallion laden with bags that were strewn hastily onto it's saddle. His fingers drifted up to his throat where he toyed with the ring on his neck, and thought of the future. Yet now his intense, green gaze surfaced the area, in a mighty, mighty sweep. And he was fierce, and alive, and waiting.

The black and auburn male continued to wait, his hands still drumming on his knees, his feet tip-tapping on the floor. Both eager and frustrated, he awaited the arrival of his receiver. Would it be a he, or a she? Would it be someone he knew, or a stranger? Most probably a complete stranger, noted Frodo. Ralla had told him that much had changed since he'd been here. So much had changed. Frodo half wondered about Liliana. She'd come to meet him on his first arrival. But it was not her that approached him this time. Frodo could tell as much, as he made out through the darkness a white form; not dark furred like she'd been. White furred and blue eyed was the female that came towards him. By instinct, he automatically placed a reassuring hand on the bow on his shoulder, but then told himself not to worry. He would be alright. He would be OK. He slipped the hand away, sighing.

The horse at his side stirred and Frodo ushered soft warnings into it's auds. He did not want to be shown up at this moment, as once more he would prove his worth of a pack. It had been raining, and Frodo had not even realised. Blinking through wet lashes, his green eyes scanned Ayasha as she finally came to a halt in front of him. Mr Silvertongue bowed gracefully, showing he was submitting and no threat. The woman had fair reason to be wary at this hour, however she seemed unphased by the dark. He responded to her comment swiftly, in his strange tones. Now, that's just it, squire. I aint no stranger. 'Used to live 'ere, long time 'go, you follow? I'm comin' back, if you'll have me, blackjack. he looked up, eye contact not wavering, his face and eyes kind and genuine. Part of him couldn't believe he was back. And the other part was wondering if he would be allowed back.

The straightened up from his stooped bow and watched as a grin fell upon Ayasha. Frodo mentally shrugged and then physically grinned back, his eyes smiling with him. A good smile always put the man at ease. Frodo nodded at her words; he agreed she'd probably seen him around before, but knew they had never spoken. He hadn't stayed long enough to get to know anyone, really. In fact, the people he had spoken to, he hadn't spoken to for long. This upset Frodo. He'd always been a lively, cheerful, and social wolf. It pained him to think his social skills had diminished over the time he'd been away; he'd had little time to sharpen them when constantly working. No way holey ghost, I didn't leave... I was taken. his voice broke for a second or two, and it was clear he wouldn't willingly say anything else on the matter. I'm a fair hunter, rider, and am well handy with my handy-hands. he paused, racked his brains for something else. I know the under-the-neaths, ups an' downs, an' round a bouts of most stuff. I make myself useful wherever, whenever, got me?

The thought didn't occur to Frodo that this was Ayasha's first time meeting a potential member of the pack. She seemed to know what she was doing in Frodo's mind. The brute gave a weak smile and brief tail wag, waiting for her answer, however she spoke about something else first. He hadn't know Ralla was a mother! Now, it was just time for him to tell a tale to the Ayasha here. Your mother was - is - a good friend of mine. She travelled with my family when I were a young 'un, and we met again when I first came here, sidney. She saw me again a couple of hours ago- showed me the way back, so she did. he grinned, looking to Ayasha. The female seemed to have the same glistening white coat of her mothers, but apart from that, Frodo would never have guessed. His eyes sparkled a little. It's nice to meet cha, anyways, Ayasha. I'm Frodo, Frodo Silvertongue.

dunno where this post is gone.... I kinda deleted it by accident :C

The news about Nayati upset him. He’d had a good time learning a bit about hunting from Nayati. It was upsetting to know that the luperci was gone, exiled. Exiled why? Ralla had told him about the war but nothing much of it, like why it had started or anything. It was understandable that war was a painful subject, sharp ground to be treading on, but Frodo found himself wanting to know more. However, this wasn’t the time. That’s…that’s… he searched for the right word, but found non. In the end his reply was just a settled look of melancholy, he looked into Ayasha’s face and looked pained.

It was at least fortunate to know that he was accepted. He grinned, wagging his fluffy tail and tossing curly locks of golden orange out of his eyes. He noticed her reach up to touch a scar on her body, and ever so observant he realised, given the subject they talked about, she must have received it from the war. Politely, he looked away, giving the girl space for her own misery’s. However, when the news of Liliana came, he turned back towards her. His face was stricken, complex, and above all, shocked. What? Frodo gasped, the whites of his eyes showing. Fallen off her horse? Hit her head? No! Liliana had been such a fine rider, surely her life wouldn’t have been taken from the hobby she seemed to enjoy most? He choked a cry, and as he looked at Ayasha he knew it was true. He hadn’t know Liliana that well, only been with her maybe a couple of hours, but she was a good woman. Or had been, he added with a terrible thought. I’m sorry, skipper. he muttered simply.

In the end, Frodo was glad for the subject change. He replied stiffly, hunching his narrow shoulders in a moody manner. Tha’ sounds good. he tried to force enthusiasm into his voice, but it fell flat. In the end he just gave up, and decided it was time to have a good nights sleep, or at least a good lie down where he could think about things. I’ll look out for you, my girl. But fer now, I need me some beauty rest. ‘tis been a long night. I’ll stay in the stables, fer now… he gave her a weak smile, patted her one the shoulder, and turned to leave, the heavily laden horse at his side at a follow. For a moment, he turned back. Thanks. spoke his horse voice, and then he carried on walking.