Hakim had been absent from his newly found pack. It was not, however, his fault. It is something so innate and deep within his scarred body that he could not control his desire to vanish. He fled from Rome the moment he felt at home, the sudden warmth of the location infiltrated his body and infected the impenetrable wolven body. He ran away so fast and far that he could only vaguely remember the face of the one that took him in. He found himself in the borders of Switzerland and Germany, meandering through the streets like a dark ghost. But all he saw through those caramel colored eyes were the faces of the pack he left behind. The Polynesian wealth of Loki… The warm stone gaze of Ash… They found him everywhere and soon the guilt replaced the fear. It overwhelmed his body and caused him to fall to his knees. He stayed in that form so long he forgot how to move. Still and quiet with the same peace that monks held in their graceful meditation. Hakim could not let the fear make him cower in the face of acceptance.

And thus, slowly, he made his way back to Rome. He wondered how upset Ash would be with him and in that moment he decided he must make it up to the pack leader, to the one who welcomed him with such open arms. On the way back, he traveled through the forests and woods... Searching for the perfect timber. It was a slow and tedious process but it was the only thing he could do to justify his escape. He did not know what he would built just yet, all he knew was that he wanted to build something for the pack, for Ash, something special. Then in one slightly dim and slightly rainy day, Hakim arrived at the Pack House with his findings. He set to work immediately, slightly hoping no one would notice him sawing or constructing in the backyard.