Kildeer Rest when you press it with your sharp red mouth

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Kalahari is hiraeth and he realizes it as he comes across the quiet, sweeping grass field as dawn creates a severance between night and morning light. The myriad of pastel candescence rises behind his back as he moves west. The wraith harbors no true destination though. He desires the anarchy of The Pit because it is all he has ever known. It does not slip from his consideration that instead of cowardice and exile he should have chosen death but the idea of being split from his wretched life too early is as unappealing to the unholy phantom as being exiled from the only home he has ever known. In the end, self perseverance made his decision for him. Civilization needed it’s monsters, he thinks with a soft leer accented by a softer snort — a small, near inaudible push of air from black, leathery nostrils. If death was meant to take him it would have siphoned his life force the moment he became something more within Atacoma’s womb planted there by her brother’s own seed. It was only into the cusp of his adulthood that Kalahari began to understand the things whispered about his nightmarish parents: that the lines of mother, aunt, father and uncle are blurry and irrevocably twisted and twined together. Candescent moonbeam eyes roll as he pushes forth towards the heart of the territory. Pining for where he can never return is foolish. He has only one choice, the only choice he has ever had in life: keep moving forward.

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Tagging for reference

@Bane has disappeared to lure more souls to their little pit of hell that would soon be known as Nightwatch, leaving them to hold down the fort while he wandered, fading back into the north from whence he came. The steadily growing pack lingers a top their mountain, waiting for their leader to return, but impatience and hunger draws the strigoi away from their borders one night towards the frozen lands where Bane had slunk off to. He is no leader, but a force of his own. It is the promise of fresh blood and another barrier of protection around @Mazatl that ties him to Bane, but with the northerner gone, he is left to ponder his loyalty.

Dawn comes upon him suddenly, the night creature squinting at the eastern light in disgust. He is farther from Raven's Watch than he would have liked. The land is unfamiliar and barren, the grass shifting plantatively in the breeze as he searches for respite, his eyes straining against the light. With his hunger sated, he might be able to focus enough to bring himself home, but his body gnaws against his brain and against itself, reprimanding him for failing to sustain his dark desire. He eyes the smoking rock in the distance, his paws quick to lead him away from the openness of the tundra as the sun crawls upwards.