Hushed Willows i dreamed about the ghosts

In his lonely little routine, he couldn't keep track of the time since the other Ostregas departed the Keep. First Pippin, a distant, old memory barely more than a name now. Then Mordecai, even after a fleeting return. Finally, the nails in the coffin of his hopeful spirits, Larkspur and Harlyn. Although they at least parted ways after leaving him more informed.

Silas had, albeit with reluctance, opted on his own to stay behind when Harlyn said she was taking Larkspur to her homeland for advanced healing. She said they'd be fine on their travel and that they would return when the time was right -- although he worried about how these colder days might make it all take even longer. He trusted his mother to the ends of the world and back so now it became his duty to wait here for them, and all the others who were scattered to the winds, to return. This had become the home he knew better than others, so it was the safest choice.. but not the easiest. It still became a heavy weight for him to carry.

Since it had been one long stream of occasional disappointments for him as long as he could remember, none of this was really too new for him, but that didn't make it any less bitter. He continued to not make any significant noise among the pack, and hopefully fly underneath the radar as he sorted through his complex grief by himself. Sometimes he stayed near the Crook and others he didn't, just because the thought of interacting with too many faces sounded downright terrible. Without Larkspur and Harlyn there, and with the young in the pack a little harder to avoid the more active they were, he had sometimes just found it easier to crash wherever he landed.

Which as he awoke sometime after sunrise covered in a thin layer of frost in a random spot between the trees, he vaguely regretted that choice on this day. Winter had come upon the willows and was making sure they felt it today. Silas grumbled, stretched, and began to get moving to get the blood flowing -- and hopefully some heat generated as he fluffed up his dark coat. His path cut towards the Crook's vicinity, although more precisely was towards a cache near there he often refilled. He wouldn't feel guilty about searching it for some motivational breakfast, but still groggy and bleary-eyed, Silas wasn't going in any sort of hurry yet.

i need to work through some post-lark/harlyn leaving rambles

Early in the morning Stark had roused himself and unwound himself from the spot in the Crook's heart where he'd taken up residence. It was like living in the lobby of a hotel in a sense - connected to many offshoots, including the wing Banner and Buchanan took up and then where Amara and her brood lived. The absence of Harlyn and Larkspur was still felt by many of their wolves and Stark especially missed Harlyn and their talks. He realized after a bit that Silas hadn't come back to the Crook and while he certainly wouldn't lock the yearling in he worried. The last Ostrega was also one he considered the strongest of the family, he'd managed to hold himself together despite the unfortunate circumstances that had plagued his life so far. 

Stark shook his coat out after mentioning to Tambourine where he was headed and made a break for the borders. A sprint would wake him up more, get his blood flowing, give him a moment of really feeling despite the chill in the air. He was halfway to the borders when he caught Silas' scent and turned instead towards the boy, tail giving a few brief wags as he approached the younger male. "Hey, Si," He said with an easy smile, an unmistakable fondness for the boy in the warm of his voice. "Didn't freeze your tail off out here?" He asked, nodding towards the frost everywhere. 

He wasn't quite sure what to make of these earliest days of winter. He remembered snow and cold vaguely from his earliest youth, but that had been too early for him to form any concrete opinions on it. So far, and this early in the morning, prevailing thought seemed to remain wholly unimpressed. But, Stark's approach distracted him; he picked up his head a little more and blinked away more of his sluggish fatigue. The dark alpha's company was alright with him, perhaps in part because he had never felt pressured about his want to keep to himself after everyone had left. Silas' posture was humble anyway, and in greeting, he wiggled his tail against the inside of his hocks.

"Hey. Not quite," he replied before glancing away sheepishly. "But almost. It wasn't that bad when I went to sleep out there.." he grumbled softly, and evidently he'd tired himself out enough to not wake up before the cold got that bad. Noted, for future purposes.

Stark had given Silas space, attempting to put himself in the place as a young adult who was suddenly alone. He'd felt some hope when Larkspur had returned, but then it was swallowed up when she'd fallen from the mountain. He still refused to think she'd actually thrown herself from the mountainside. He had tried to let the boy process and think of things on his own without his mother or sister present - without brother or father either. The part of him that had hoped to see the next batch of Ostrega's in the keep had let that ship sail. 

He chuckled as he looked over towards the ground, following Silas' gaze. "This will be the first winter you remember, huh?" It had to be a surprise - that sudden shift, so quick and then a snap of cold. "If we're honest, this is my least favorite season. I hate the cold." Stark admitted. He shook his coat out, fluffing himself a bit. "Guess that'll be one good thing about the Crook. It's awkward sometimes but it'll serve it's purpose."

"Yeah.." he replied, thoughtful as he reflected back on what he did recall exactly. "I only remember the end of it. Like right before it started to warm up," So he could guess that it was a little different than the beginning of winter. He'd spent much of the coldest months of it too little to go outside.

Because of this, he was still getting a hang on what to expect, especially considering that the autumn had seemed generally mild. He'd not been very perturbed by it, at least. "I don't really think I'm a big fan either.." he mused with a little scrunch to his muzzle, although it was pretty early to be writing it off entirely. He had yet to experience much. "I know," he nodded, about the Crook being a valuable resource. It was good they'd have the company and the camaraderie to help get through the chilliest times, too. "Sometimes it still just feels weird there without even Spur or Mom around.." He'd had more time to cope with Mordecai being a coming and going sort of presence throughout his life, and Pippin was distant at best, but his most-loved girls were a different story.

Anyway, before he could let the subject weigh him down, the dark Ostrega abruptly suggested he hit the trails and resume his hunt. If Stark wanted, he was more than welcome. Silas admired the dark-coated male quite considerably these days, especially after so much else had crumbled on him, so may have voiced his offer with a bit of hope behind it. With or without, he'd be off on his way through the willow soon..