He makes his way to the place called Taiga, his sense of smell, now enhanced as it had been in the days before everything fell apart and he lost his ability to shift, quite literally leading the way. Thick paws tread assertively upon the unseen ground before the at-last-once-again grizzly bear, though his pace remains a slow and careful one, developed by the years of cautious habit that had sunk into Siberian's brain. This restoration was a wonderful thing, truly, yet it left questions, worrying questions. Was he right to be doing this? The denizens of the land he had been directed to had never done anything against him, and with the Chamber gone there were no kingdom enemies to fight against. But, if he had said no, had turned down that stranger, the stranger whose voice had somehow come not from his mouth but within Siberian's own mind, he would have had to continue on in a world of darkness and invisible dangers for the rest of his existence; not a fate he looked forward to.
He can only assume he has arrived at the borders of the land the unseen magician had described to him; the air smells so much like he remembers of the Chamber that it puts an ache in his heart, and a brushing against tree trunks that he passed by seemed to indicate that they were quite wide and strong trees, indeed. There is a quiet ursine rumbling in the back of his mind, almost a purring, telling him that his alter-ego is just as pleased to be back in existence as he is to hear its primal greeting. Siberian does not issue forth a roar as he ventures further in, for only a foolish soldier would announce their presence to an unknown and uncounted enemy in such a bold fashion. One might as well cart around a giant neon sign with an arrow pointing downwards as to bellow out a challenge for all before them to hear. No, the Budyonny moves along as silently as a huge carnivore weighing hundreds of pounds and unable to see (ow, that rock was sharp...oh, there was a low-hanging branch there....) can manage. He pauses to sniff at the air, listens with the small rounded ears now atop his shaggy brown head. There is a smell, an equine one, coming towards him, growing stronger. And the gradually-less faint sound of hooves upon packed earth. He stays where he is now, facing in the correct direction, with lips curling out of the way to display a rather fearsome set of teeth.
Siberian
The sexy grizzly boy of Beqanna