The trek from the drop off point had been quite a different view from the last time he had been in Nova Scotia. Now becoming very green, Noss was reminded of the brief springs and summers back in the Moon Tribe, although it had been engulfed with snow until their departure. Strangely, his and Ralla's father, the Chief of the Crescent Moon Pack, had been very understanding, and had let his children go in exile. The shame might have been greater if there had been charges to face, but as it was, they were leaving that tribe of their own volition. No longer could they every hope to see their father again, or their tribe mates, on the lands that they had been raised on. They had been sent off with sadness, although Noss had refused to show any remorse, rather leaving with a brave face that they might all remember him by. To him, Ralla, and Kemo--as he was begrudgingly beginning to call him, resigning himself to the fact that he was going to be around with his younger sister quite often--there was no more Moon Tribe; only the packs of Souls. To them, their pasts were far behind them in a sea of snows far, far away.
Different than before, with more formality and ceremony, Noss howled a deep tenor to the skies at the border of the Cours pack, intent that he might actually be able to join. With no home to return to in the far south, he had hoped that he could make his home in the pack that had shown him kindness, and where he could find a certain tailor that had twisted his life all around. Yes; for the entirety of the journey, whenever Noss was questioned to his own reasons for leaving the pack, lavender eyes and a sharp tongue sprung to mind. He had promised Strelein that he would return--and lo and behold, he was there in one piece--and he wondered what had happened in a month's time. Had Strelein given up on him? For many reasons he could understand that sentiment, because in all honesty Noss had not been very considerate to moderate stability (in most senses of the word). And then he would fight to regain that stability, if need be, because even when he had faced Naka back in the Crescent Moon Pack--the female wolfess who he thought would be his future mate, who had at first reminded him of Strel--he had not felt any of his previous attractions to her. Strel had spoiled him for that, but he didn't find that particular fact displeasing in the least. Rather, the promise of at least seeing Strel again had urged him home all the faster.
Noss had grown a little in the past month. Not necessarily physically, but more maturely. Leaving his pack and realizing what his new fate would be had taught him humility unlike he had ever been taught, even when he had been beaten by the pups from Dahlia de Mai. But he had chosen his path and accepted all its bonuses, good or bad along the way, and found that he could laugh a little more now that he was less stressed for so many issues. Well...laugh a little more with those close to him. That--'that' being his policy on his inner circle of wolves close to him--had yet to change in any aspect. Although, he supposed, since he was vying to join a pack, it would not be completely wrong to say that he was joining another family.
Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.
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