The weather was growing warmer and the days longer, yet the aches of his joints did not cease; what he assumed to be due to the wintry winds was proven to be a result of his age instead. How long was it now since the day of his birth? How long since he left home, since he found himself in the Teekon Wilds? These things he could not remember, not entirely—it was as if he was looking through a fogged glass, some sections more clear than others but the picture as a whole remained a mystery. But perhaps it was better that way, to hold onto the memories that he found most dear, rather than try to cling to them all.

Stuck still in his old ways, Kove spent the morning patrolling. He was slower now and struggled to mark as he used to do, all four limbs remaining on the ground now more often than not. But this was one aspect of life that he was not willing to give up, as border work was very much a part of him. It took its toll, however, as was apparent in his slowed gait. And once he finished, as he was heading to the heart of the territory, perhaps a perceptive gaze may even note the slight limp.