His nose twitched slightly as he sniffed the air again. Following this particular bunch of scents was proving to be slightly challenging, given the urban camouflage, but he was managing. He took a slight skip in his step so that his black converse shoes would be spared splashing through a puddle of…he would rather not figure out exactly what was in the puddle. Huzzah for living in the city, right? A short while later, though, he found what he was looking for.
The scents that he had been following intensified rather suddenly and he turned, peering down the almost too stereotypical dark alley. He saw a bundle of blankets that he figured was probably some homeless bum, but that was all. A frustrated growl escaped his lips and he could feel his other self getting impatient. You had better not have taken us on a wild goose chase, the wolf snarled at him. “’Ay, it took both of us to follow that smell, thanks. If this is a dead end, which it’s not, then it’d be both our faults,” Ryker muttered in his light brogue, drawing a curious stare from a young woman passing by. The Irishman just gave the woman a charming little smile and wave before making his way into the alley, once more sliding his hands into his pockets.
Well, he was certainly right about the source of the smells. This alley was literally inundated with the scent of werewolves. Plural. More than one. Excellent. Making his way a little further into the alley, Ryker decided not to call out, but rather just wait. Someone would come, of that there was no doubt. He also needed a pack, of that also there was no doubt. One thing that he had learned from his family was that people were the most valuable resource. If he was going to get anywhere in this city, he would need to garner the support of a pack and, from what he had heard, the pack that claimed this territory sounded like it would suit his needs perfectly. Inside his pocket, his fingers drummed out a quick tattoo as he waited for someone of the correct disposition to come along.