He was just coming back from an external perimeter dwell, making sure nobody had thought nearing the woods was a good idea. Too much was going on for Shadewood, and it all seemed to put their posse leader into a state of mind of ...what, paranoia? Morgan shook his rugged mane of earth and wood out- was seeming to get a bit tangled up without Vetty's regular goormings. He missed his girl, but she was nearing her time a' birthin, and he really wasn't trying to be in the way. She wanted her space, and yea that was respectable and all, but he knew she was a'hurtin from it. He was near when she wanted food and comfort, but when she didn't, he rode out as quick as he could. 

He guarded as good as he could, but his mind kept wandering back off to Cry, and he wondered what had stuck to him so hard. The man had changed- and he couldn't guarantee whether it was a good change, or whether he was just following another pathway down that Dutch had fallen. Cry seemed too put together ta be goin' crazeh, but...who was to say?

Seeing a wolf just as large as him surging forth through the river's isle coming towards him, he knew it to be one of their own. A fellow Keepsman- what a relief. "Howdy, frien'," he greeted the brother in arms as nice as possible. He wasn't very good at nice, but he tried, regardless.