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So Gig had a clan, now, and he was satisfied. His satisfaction had made him bold and he had ventured out beyond Inferni's borders, something he intended not to do often. For his apparent whatever attitude, the hybrid had a touch of cowardice; he didn't like to take risks. He wandered the neutral territories in luperci form, silently amazed that while he was a pup they had never ventured into them, although they had lived practically next to them. Well, perhaps not amazed. His father wasn't a drifter, he was a rock. Gig stumbled onto a shorebed, pausing to soak in the details. Rough shells that composed the sand and high tides splashing against the shore.
He decided to break here, hang out for a while. Settling down, he let his eyes wander out over the water. The horizon sparkled like the minerals at his feet. He let his indigo eyes fall closed, wondering where his sudden wanderlust had come from. He had never desired to leave his home, or explore. Curiosity did not seek him. Yet here he was, with some silly idea of starting a new life. How terribly out of character for him. For a second he considering what would happen if he went back, even though his brother was a dick, even though his mom and sister were batty and drove him insane. He fingered the tears in his ears. Once there had been a neat row of earrings, gold and silver, all from his mother. Family tradition. His brother had been fighting with him, right before he left, and he had hooked his-- what, his teeth, maybe, or his claws, Gig couldn't remember-- and tore them right out.
Had it really been enough to drive him away? Or maybe his reason was more psychological. Ah, but enough of that talk. New Years was -- soon, and he was starting fresh, a new Giggle Dracon, Gig of Inferni, the coyote menace. Even if he hadn't a whit of fighting ability or the intention to ever cause trouble. He could always just pretend, right?