Ambrose was always hungry, but that made sense since he was a very large creature and there was still no telling how well his hunt went with Towhee or Elwood. Most remarkably, the roaming shadow had let the entire event fade from his mind. He'd discovered something bizarre when he'd been hunting and while the actual events weren't that important, this discovery was immensely. The two strangers he had encountered were of the same pack — but here was the kicker. So was Niamh. Her scent was all over them. He didn't think to broach the subject with either of his hunting partners so he'd eaten (or maybe he hadn't) and said a polite farewell.

But now that he was alone, roaming through the hinterlands as if he were possessed, he knew he had to track down his sister. It was too shocking to let it go. He might've been a skilled hunter and felt quite accomplished as a tracker, but he still overshot the path he thought would lead him straight to Niamh. Ambrose came upon a deep-set forest and soon was absorbed within its cooling shadows. It wasn't long before Ambrose realized why he'd deviated — he'd somehow gone from tracking his sister to tracking his brother.

This is ridiculous, he murmurd to himself as he marched along.

There wasn't much in the forest to keep him interested, so he headed along a path that uncoiled like a snake, and soon departed the cover of the trees. It was here that he saw a startling sight, and as his pale gaze caught upon Bruges' silhouette he called out, Well speak of the devil! The hell are you doing here?

Ambrose had slipped easily in to a run and his long strides cut through the distance between himself and his brother, and upon reaching him and the little spit of river, he was grinning from ear to ear; but then he remembered what had transpired between the two of them, and for a moment his smile lost a bit of its usual shine.

Don't call me that, you sound like dad, Ambrose scoffed, entirely honest in that assessment even if it sounded like teasing. His comment was spoken with a low enough tone to be missed though, as he did not want to start anything. Ambrose watched his brother for a moment as if studying a sheet of ice ready to crack beneath his feet, and when he was met with familial bolstering he decided everything was alright.

I thought I smelled her around here, he remarked in response to Bruges.

I was hunting the other day and I ran in to a couple pack wolves. It was the weirdest thing, because they smelled a bit like Niamh. I think she's living with them now. As he finished reporting this he shrugged and added, I assume that's why you're here, right? Looking for somewhere else to rest your head, mooch some food, or charm the locals?

His voice had turned a bit too sharp as he mentioned the locals; again, he had to hold back on saying things that he meant outright. Bruges had really screwed him over with his last stunt and no amount of time would heal that wound of his (or so he told himself). If Bruges was here, and he knew of Niamh, then it was only a matter of time before he made her life implode. He might've claimed to be looking out for her — but that was Ambrose's job, and always had been.

His baby blues narrowed after a few moments, and he sniped as casually as he could, Why are you really here, Bruges?