Steph was not the only one to wander near a grave - the pale scout frequently placed himself at the base of his late love's resting place, and he took solace in her peace. It was a deep guilt that tugged at his heart, though. A certainty had nestled itself into his chest that surely there was something he could have done; not only for Illecebra, but for his children and his sisters, too. If there was a way for him to turn back time, he had no doubts that he would take it, if only to be given another chance at rescuing the broken pieces of his scattered family.

Alarian had been given a warm space in Mawk's mind, though, and his heart, too - he maintained a mountain of respect and gratitude to the charcoal wolf in his attempts at distracting the saefyn from his plauging grief, and it would not be forgotten. 

There was a silence here, as he paced across the domain that Easthollow claimed; sometimes it remained tranquil, a slice of heaven amongst the mess of his emotions, but other times the lack of noise echoed in his head, a cacophony of nothing to beat against his skull. He dispised those times. Presently, it was something between them both - a numb pain wracked his body, a sickening pool of bitterness on his tongue.

Mawk had missed Steph on his line of vision, at first, but fiery eyes drew back and noted her smaller figure perched alone in observation of the prairie beneath. His first thought had been to allow her the peace and move on (else he destroy something else), but then he had been reminded of Alarian's efforts and his paws shifted closer, a soft chuff releasing from his muzzle to announce his presence.