For as long as he had lived, Zadkiel had never been part of an actual pack. For the majority of his seven months, he’d lived with his father in Europe where packs were hardly existent. It had been a much more modern feel there, and when Anzu had told he and his siblings that they were going to live in North America, he had half-expected to be joining some kind of pack. Yet, even here in this old school set-up, Zadkiel and his family were loners.
Therefore, it could be expected that he would know nothing about pack customs, subordinate behavior, or even the tolerance of trespassers around Bleeding Souls. It was safe to say that Zadkiel was absolutely clueless when it came to anything at all involving territory belonging to a certain group of people.
And so, when his travels had brought him to the coast that belonged to a group of coyotes, which were yet another subject that Zadkiel knew very little about, the boy had no thought twice about crossing the invisible line separating free-for-all land from claimed land. How was he to know that such acts were not tolerated by packs or in Inferni’s case, clans? His mother and father had never taught him such rules and were you really breaking a law if you didn’t know it existed? The answer was probably yes, but it was something Zad would have to find out for himself.
The air was still cold as always, but lightened up by the sun that had finally decided to shine. The land was pretty enough, but there was some sort of strange bones stuck to the trees guarding the border. While the bones of his kind might frighten another of his age, it only piqued Zadkiel’s interest, for he was fond of killings. Patting his side where he kept his favorite hunting knife, Zadkiel moved forward through the territory, feeling like some kind of explorer in uncharted territory.