Hell in a hand basket.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">That</span>was where this pack was headed and Gabe knew it. There was no point denying it, not with the current order of rules and regulations. There was no scouting, no hunting, no nothing, not even water breaks without Alphas say so. Not unless you wanted your hind legs bitten off and used for sticks. Independence was a distant day dream and privacy an elusive and unheard of myth of old. You were monitored, tracked and kept close at all hours of the day to make a 'close knit pack'.<br/>Close knit indeed!<br/>It was a breach of space and these sorts of things could only result in one thing. To put it simply; what happens when you keep too many wolves too close together for a long space of time?<br/>Squabbles.<br/>All out fights.<br/>It was a ticking time bomb, the clan, these days and Gabe just couldn't stomach it any more.<br/><br/>His amber eyes swivelled up to Akira accusingly and he lagged behind that bit more, taking his own time to leisurely catch scents in the air, pausing to analyse passing sounds, ears pricked, neck craned. To some this could have been called immature behaviour, yanking her chain for the sake of a few petty rules, to him it was a subtle way of reminding her just how much he disagreed with her law. This wolf who'd taken the family off of his mothers good paws...