carry on my wayward son

Anatole Aston · 03-04-2012, 01:37 PM

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He has a slight kinda-French accent since he's one of those Canadians.

While he panted to cool his body, Anatole was a man in shape and did not take long to regain his breath. The journey had been a long one, certainly, but he was a true wolf after all the wolves that had come before him. His size was the only change, but it was based upon parents who had grown large with wisdom and skill. He closed his mouth at the sight of an approaching horse, ears rising as he lifted his head to look upon the rider. A massive man, dark but wearing odd looking clothing, neared his position.

Anatole dipped his head as a sign of respect to the alpha, but lifted it quickly. While he did not look the man directly in his eyes, he did not shy away from his face. It was not disrespectful, but he knew from his position it would be hard for him to be understood from so low on the ground. Instinct would now allow him to shift forms before the man, but he wished he had so as to make conversation easier. “I apologize for the hour,” he began, though he had truly made a fair time in coming so far. “My name is Anatole Aston, and I serve as a scout within the Tribe. I came to tell you that one of your members has found his way to our home; a man named Hadley. I suspect you may wish for his return,” the wolf added, unsure of if they knew of the absentee member.

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