Blacktail Deer Plateau [Meeting] Trying to take what's lost and broken, make it right

Malachi paused at Dante's call, paw raised and nostrils flared to search the air. An impulsive motion, worried for the tang of blood or smoke. But the air only held the moisture of the morning rain, and the land lay quiet save for the echo of Dante's call. Slowly, Malachi lowered his paw and drew his eyes to the horizon. A dark figure cut across the Plateau from the outskirts - Lasher. Malachi traced the man's steps until he shrank from sight. Then, he turned his own paws from his worn down trail to follow the Beta's path.

The night of the fire. That was the last time he had spoken with Dante. Malachi had let his hope falter when they hadn't found him in the ashes, and disappear altogether when they hadn't found him at all. But Dante had returned. Like Tuwawi, and Njal, he had returned. And every time he thought of seeking the greyscale out, Malachi was met with the barren North, with sunken eyes and empty shells, with bloodied snow and the bristling of ember, and he turned away instead.

But his avoidance couldn't last forever. When Malachi came upon the gathering wolves, he settled his gaze straight on Dante's face. He searched for madness, but the greyscale sat poised at their head. A quiet hope lit his chest - one Malachi hesitated to take. The young man hovered before he dipped his head in reverence and drew near. One of the children skirted round Mordecai, and Malachi watched his gaiety with an ache. Drawing his eyes away, he offered Mordecai a soft smile, then set his eyes on Dante again.