This wasn't right, this wasn't right at all! Hadn't it been clear? Go towards the mountains, that's what the boy had garnered from his orders, even though he had been forced to make sense of them without knowing the language. Cause havoc. It had been days since he had seen hide nor hair of his dark accomplice - even his scent had waned, vanishing as Tiarnan's route took him east instead of west. He had bedded down for the night beneath the stars, hoping that the sparse canopy of a few trees would protect him; and then in the morning, he had tried to worm his way in the correct direction.

That had been days ago.

A hunger plagued him now, the same kind that had driven him towards Silvertip in the first place; desperate and deep, churning his stomach and making his knees want to buckle. The cliffs above showed signs of animal life: worn paths, dried piles of dung, even a few patches of grass that were bitten to the root. There was something here that could be hunted, but the problem persisted—Tiarnan was too exhausted to do anything but lay low and moan pathetically to himself, surrounded by strange stone formations. He was a pitiful and useless creature, and he knew it.

He wallowed for what felt like days, when in reality time dredged by far slower than he was aware. A handful of quiet hours slid by him as he lay there, alone and in need, before a voice broke through the stillness and roused him. The sound of it made him simultaneously excited and nervous. Hesitant as he was, Tiarnan was hopeful that whoever was nearby could be of some use—even to just point him in the right direction so he could get home. A thought occurred to him as he rose to shaky limbs: when had the mountain become home? He hadn't exactly lived there long. The thought fell from his mind when he saw her. A pearly white silhouette against the dark of the mountain.

Bazi? The boy rasped with a parched tongue, and before she could confirm herself, he was jogging out of hiding and towards her. The beaming glow of her fur led him away from the tangled roots and dried summer grasses, and he came upon her in a flash that could have been misconstrued as an attack. Bazi! He chortled a second time, feeling far more mirthful now that he had found a familiar face.

She stood like a beacon and he flew to her as a moth to a flame. Even strides, bold and quick, brought him to her side; but she was distracted by something else. Something that the boy had missed and now looked for. His brow furrowed as he looked beyond Bazi—towards whatever she was looking at. While he did not strain himself much, the boy looked in to the distance fruitlessly, and his gaze slid to the side of her face and back again a few times. When it became apparent that she was distracted by something, he grunted and drew closer, brushing against her carefully before slinking back a step, suddenly shy. He was about to speak her name again (one of the few words he knew) when sounds of approach finally reached him. The boy braced himself against the ground, limbs and tail stiffening.

Kaname emerged, spitting like a cobra as if his words were the only poison he needed; yet still the truth evaded the boy. He remained plastered low, even when Bazi recognized the words and turned to glance upon him. Her gaze gave him fortitude, albeit briefly, but it was enough to empower him upward. As he braced himself in a wobbly seated posture, Tiarnan's ears twisted when Bazi's tone became accusatory. He did nothing to correct her attitude towards the other wolf; he did little at all besides stare at Kaname, awe-struck at having been found.

The tension in the conversation was palpable. Tiarnan was keyed in to the two wolves' posture and physicality more than the words, which was an obvious thing for him to do. Without really knowing what to do about the tension between them, Tiarnan whined softly and - against his own better judgement - got to his paws and took a daring step between them in time to hear Bazi's question. He understood that, on some basic level. At least the word pack and the cautious, questioning tone that she used. Silvertip. The boy muttered next, before Kaname could intervene.