Firefly Glen Shoulders back, chest out, and eyes raised.

His mission had taken him far from Mereo, and now that he was to return he took his time and went his own way.

It served a purpose: rather than seek out Germanicus and report in, Glaukos was getting a broader lay of the land while feeding another beast; a piece of himself that had been left dormant while he had grown in to himself.

He stayed for a few nights within the weald, then journeyed south to the glen. He hunted there, ate and then found a particular place among the overgrowth, where he chose to dig. Once he had told someone where to find this treasure - and now he looked for it, to see if it had been claimed or left forgotten.

This was but a stone throw from Moonglow.

But that conclusion had not reached him yet. He had followed the old trail of a herd, winding and weaving. Soon he would turn back to find the warmth of Brecheliant once more.

For a moment he wondered if he had stumbled upon a raggedy, tattered bear.

Then realized it was too wrong in some places for that.

Makan could not speak to announce himself, so he did not hide his steps. He did not bother to be the form of a hunter he had become.

But whenever eyes did find him, he was prepared to maintain a submissive posture.

He knew he had planted it under a bush. At this point in his life Glaukos had a hard time remembering which bush. It was either the evergreen shrub there, or the blueberry bush over there, or the nettle here; but a nettle wasn't a bush, and he knew that. But he was digging there anyway just in case. In the end there'd be a long trench here and some very sad plants with their roots exposed.

Nothing here, though. He huffed and withdrew from the small pit he'd excavated, then looked towards the evergreen; it would be a hassle to get at those roots, which was precisely why he thought he might've buried the treasure there.

Something moved behind him; he thought it was just the wind at first, but the breeze came from the other direction and brought with it the wolf-scent of a stranger. His hackles prickled and he turned to glare towards -- a shadow? No, there was a wolf there.

A man.

Massive and strong. Scarred beyond himself. Makan dipped himself low, near the ground. He wished to make sounds that might appease the stranger, but such a thing would not happen.

He only became akin to a worm. Lowly and nearly belittling himself with his body language!

The way the stranger snaked down in to the dirt, so there was no beginning nor end to them, was an oddity that would have put Glaukos further on-edge had he not been so greatly pleased by the display; it fed some semblance of ego within him, a deeply ingrained bestial piece of his soul.

They did not speak. That was fine — Glaukos had been on the road so long now, he'd found contentment in the silence and the solitude. He did give a boof of welcome, if one could call it that. His attention did not drift even as he stalked through the weald, keeping his tattered ears shifting so they could listen to the stranger's movements.

He could not see him except, sometimes, those eyes — and he did wonder if this wolf was alone.