Ever since murdering that Exiler, Sal had been more or less forced to sort of lie low in the case that he'd get in trouble for taking things into his own paws. Typically, the hybrid was never so cautious about something as trivial as this, but he wasn't exactly looking forward to getting prematurely thrown out of the Painted Brigade until he's done all that he wanted to. He'd squandered his first chance with the Exiles by, obviously murdering one of their own, and the only other anti - clan in existence that he hasn't joined up with was the Sanguine Ruins. He wasn't as interested in them as he was the Painted Brigade, however.
In any case, he wanted to be able to cause some trouble without ever getting in trouble -- and he supposed the Shadow Veil would be a lovely victim to pick from. He'd thoroughly washed off the scent of the Painted Brigade with his water elementals before rolling in a patch of lavender to ensure that the clan scent was all gone before venturing across the continent to the Whispering Pines. He remembers tearing into that Veiler boy like it was yesterday; his flesh had been succulent and sweet and a part of him wished to see the Siamese once again in order to tear another part of him off.
However, Sal wasn't that lucky. He knew it was far more likely that he would meet someone else other than Junepaw, so whoever approached him would simply have to do for the moment.
The pale furred hybrid would pause on the border, his thick tail flicking behind him as he wears a small smile upon his face. Ruby red eyes flickered about the vaguely familiar scenery, taking it all in, loving the thought of painting this place red all over with the blood of his enemies.