[/html]He ventured north. Though the Crimson Dream's pack lands and past the border, the russet male then took the distance between the two packs easily and without must rest. Oak had yet to visit the Dreamer’s northern neighbors, and he was curious to know what the culture of that pack was like. Even though there was something different that made the bordering lines more tangible and even breakable Oak could not help but weaver at their lines. There was a instinctual rule that told him to wait respectfully.
He lingered on the outskirts in his lupus form, rounding the coastal territory nimbly. His courage was growing and momentum building. The tree-named wolf paused for only a moment before he shifted into his Optime form. Dark fingers raked thorough the short, previously cut mane. It always took him a moment to catch his breath after the change, and he allowed himself the moment of solitude.
Tail wagged softly, and Oak took a few steps into the pack’s lands. Slowly he walked, ears moving to catch the sound of another that may be near. But he did not cover much ground at all before his moral mind told him that he could go no further without permission. Black nose rose to the wintery sky, its clouds covering any sign of blue, and let out a small call to any that may be near. Warning them of his presence.