The air still held the chill of early morning, but Cypress could tell it would turn into a beautiful spring morning. The sun’s rays were warm on his back with nary a cloud to break up the blue of the sky. The various songs of the birds could be heard as he made his way through the forest and left their joyful notes behind as he headed out across the rolling plain.
Traveling at an easy loop, the wolf eventually slowed his pace before coming to a stop. He stood there, for some time, look out towards the scent marked border he knew laid ahead. He could not scent it yet, but he knew it to be there all the same. He had left without a thought, the trip impromptu, but now he found there was hesitation in his step, even after he had already come thus far.
Tilting his head back, Cypress let his tenor voice call out for his kin. It felt odd, for a wolf that scarcely left his own borders, to be standing on the outside of another pack’s land waiting for permission to venture within. Such were the ways. He was not about to go barging in. Such disrespect would do nothing for his reasons for coming.
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