Backdated a little... can we say January 30th, or would you prefer a little closer to nowish? :x
The silver-furred werewolf was pretty damn sure he knew where he wanted to end up. Cour des Miracles was so nice—Strelein especially. He had yet to meet anybody else of that batch, however, and he desired to branch out a little bit. The adventurous spirit wouldn't die so quickly within Rurik, and he knew there was one other neighbor to the city territory—Phoenix Valley. He had learned a little bit of these people from Jantus, and since then he had been almost hesitant to seek these wolves out. He didn't think they were a dangerous bunch—but from what Jantus had said, he definitely didn't want to get on anyone's bad side. So it was with caution that he approached Phoenix Valley, heading through Halifax as always.
The late afternoon walk was rather relaxing; the whole city seemed to have fallen into a state of quietus with the snowfall. It lay in drifts and piles along city streets; plows had long ceased driving through to clear them. Here and there, a path of footprints crossed Rurik's way, placed in the snow by some other creature. As he drew nearer to the pack's territory, the incidences of canid footprints grew higher, while other animals seemed to have grown wary. Of course, it was in their best interest—Rurik was certain these smaller animals did not want to made into a wintertime snack. Today, though, he wasn't interested in hunting—doing so close to pack territory was simply asking for trouble. One's actions could always be misinterpreted, after all. So it was just outside of the Valley territory's borders that Rurik stopped, standing awkwardly on the very edge of the city. Behind him in the distance, a few tall buildings reached toward the sky, but it had degraded to almost surburbia in these parts, with far more individual and duplex residences to offset the block-tower housing apartments.
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