He's back sooner than he thought he would be.
It's another act of escaping. Haveners around him were so busy buzzing about their chickens and their plants and their kids and their friends. Usually he could live among them (but not with them), scraping by on his work, spending much of his time in his own head or chatting with Ver about something or other. But lately the talk was so incessant and so inaccessible that he could find no other solution than to run away from it for a little while. This was how things usually went, of course- the Veil themselves had seen it not long ago. But this time, instead of escaping from his own trail of misdeeds and misfortunes, he was escaping from the reminders of just how little he fit into his new home. Whose idea was it to move to Wind Haven? Was it his own? It must have been. What an odd choice! He was so... detached; his grasp of Wind Haven's purpose was so loose that he sometimes forgot the name of his clan. Maybe it would have been better to just live nowhere at all. A lone wolf, they would have called him, and they would have been right: his teeth were sharp and he was itching for prey in a way not unfamiliar. It's been a long time since he's felt so erratic. Change of scenery, he reasons the cause to be, and leaves it at that.
The feline's shoulders roll as he prowls towards the border. His nose wrinkles and the corners of his mouth flick upwards in a wry smile as he comes closer to the scent markers; how familiar this place was. He can't tell if he hates it or loves it. He swallows a lump in his throat, straightens his posture, and waits for a short while. Why is he here? Well, to get away from all of the chatter, for one, but this visit was doubling as a little 'hello' from Wind Haven, too. Juba and S (but especially Juba) had been twittering about getting out more to their allies, and he's certain that there is no man better for the job than himself. After all, he's been the head of ally relationships across multiple clans for so long now. The man can't imagine that anyone else is capable enough for the role- even though there technically isn't one. Maybe he'll forge it himself, then.
Patiently he waits, deciding not to announce himself. He flips between feeling embarrassed for being back on this border so soon and feeling nearly cheery to do something other than laying in his cottage looking outwards all day- it'd be better for someone to just find him and tell him this is a good thing than to try and decide it for himself. A paw taps the hard earth beneath him while an eye flicks his gaze fly-like between the trees. He feels light; airy. He hopes that someone would be along quickly.