Flycatcher Downs Heaven knows that I'm born too late for these ghosts that I chase

When he left the Wilds, Ramsay was bone thin, haggard, and unable to settle his searching paws. His life had been mostly defined by wandering up until that point, and with no constants besides Euron, he had no reason to stay still. Cicero could have been that for him, but Cicero had died, so even Tindome, where he left his sons, was unable to keep him for longer than a handful of months. He returned to the Wilds fully grown, with the glossy pelt and padded musculature that spoke of good health, and a much better grasp on his own inclinations. The sun was high overhead as he padded out on the pebbly grassland, where the wind blew but disturbed nothing.

He breathed the valley air deeply, holding it in his lungs, then let it go. There was nothing on the agenda for the day, and no known packs nearby to sneak food away from. He was a little peckish and could do with a meal, but it wasn't urgent. His time with the other branch had taught him how to suppress hunger and exhaustion in order to continue pursuing a goal long after a less disciplined wolf had flagged. He had no reason to do that now, but a side effect was that it took a lot for him to feel his needs, including hunger. He could go a while longer.

"Where to?" he asked in a gravelly voice as he swung his squashed body around.

"Hmm."

He hummed ponderously, passing his tongue along his lips. There was a long silence after as Euron stared over the mountains. Beyond them were the dark woods they had called home. Did Ramsay still? The young wolf did not know. He only knew that he did not. He had but one attachment in life and that was to his brother. His home was in Ramsay's shadow, and he was directionless — a leaf aloft on a breeze — without his brother's steps to follow.

"I am thinking not to there," he said with a nonchalant roll of his slim shoulders. He too had returned to Teekon in good health but he did not possess the breadth and depth of muscle that Ramsay possessed. He remained a slight wolf, fox faced and even more furtive than he had been as a pup. His innate trait had become a practiced talent. His stealth had a keen edge honed by the experiences he had had since their departure.

"But I am also thinking to there," he said, flashing his brother a toothy grin as he followed up that cryptic change in answer with a devilish tee hee. Euron sighed then and shook his head. His smooth tones becoming more somber. "I am not knowing where we should go, brother, and you are knowing that I am not knowing." The white-shouldered wolf chewed his cheek as he looked to Ramsay. He had no over-arching ambition and purpose; he sought certain things in certain moments but that was all.

The dwarf didn't need to ask his brother to clarify. He knew exactly where 'there' was, and with two steps, turned his barrel of a frame so he could gaze at the southern mountains. Euron's flip-flopping may have confused anyone else, but Ramsay understood completely. His plans, tentative buds yet in the garden of his mind, demanded that they return there, but also that they leave there behind. There was a lot to be done, words to be spoken and amends to be made, and both brothers needed more time to gather their thoughts before then.

"I am knowing. Not yet, then," he decided, meeting his sibling's impish chortle with a thin-lipped smile of his own, subtly unnerving but not overtly creepy like Euron's sniggering. "Soon, we will go there. But not yet." As he considered the jagged edge of the range against the sky, he thought about going down into the valley within to wreak havoc on Tindome. Delight had been kind to them, but also unkind in trying to tether them; there would be no remorse there.

A scent on the breeze tickled his whiskers, carrying the scents of civilization, and the dwarf turned himself 180 degrees to face north, with small round ears perking. "There?" he mused, shooting his brother a wicked sidelong glance. Where there was civilization, there was often food.

"This is being the reason I follow you." Euron nodded to puncutate his sentiment, his eyes bright and sincere. Ramsay had ideas and Ramsay knew things. Euron was clever in his own way but he was not a leader. He was a trickster, if ever there was one word to summarize him and the way he lived his life. He fed on deceit as much as he did meat.

Ramsay's turned and his ears perked. Euron tipped his nose into the breeze. He smelled what his brother smelled and he met Ramsay's wicked glance with his own, his lips curling up in a fiendish smile. He licked his lips again. "Ohh yes," he agreed, tail swishing.

"There."

It was more than just food. He was a thief and a scavenger. He was an ambusher. Euron did not hunt like most wolves hunted. He plied his tricks in that too. The prospect of some pack to beguile or filch from was attractive to his stomach and his soul. It excited him.

"Kay, be going now." He reached out and tapped his brother on the top of his ass, a quick succession of feather-light paw strikes to encourage Ramsay onward.

His rounded ears twitched to capture Euron's dulcet tone, and he considered those words for a moment before tossing them aside. He didn't consider their dynamic one of a leader and follower, but an equal give and take. Euron excelled in areas that Ramsay couldn't dream of mastering, and Ramsay had his own skills, albeit less discrete ones. He was the muscle to Euron's cunning, and had a way about him that seemed to make others shrink in their wake. There was a touch of the Melonii arrogance there, too, but only a touch. They complemented one another and no one followed the other, in his eyes.

The brush of Euron's toes on his rump earned a playful snap as the dwarf spun on a dime, showing off his own brand of agility, developed to cope with his deformity. So far it hadn't hindered him in life, although it always amused him when others backed away or watched with horrified eyes. He relished the power of their fear and disgust. "Pups," he noted too on the wind, though it changed nothing. They weren't ones to steal nestlings, but it meant the pack had more to contend with than just guarding their borders. It might leave them open.

"Come then," said the stunted wolf, giving the mountains one last glance before plodding along to the north. Yes, they would go there soon enough. Anticipation warred with trepidation when he thought of that place, but like Euron, he knew they needed to go there rather than wanted to. There was an opportunity there. But first, he and his brother needed to think on their direction. To do that, they needed full bellies. And full bellies awaited them at the end of this risky venture, so they headed north, to where the smell of wolves originated.