Altar of Twilight but the lights come on, once every year

The moon struck against the stone, radiating it and creating a flash of brilliant ethereal light that he had never seen before. The willowy creature peered with wide eyes at the statement made by nature. His narrow features were pointed upward, awestruck by the sheer size of the jagged peaks and wild rocks. The mountain rose from the earth like a great sentinel – a guardian of the wild.

Cavendish tiptoed his way around the edges of the rocks. He moved with a feline-like grace that didn't seem to suit one of his species. Still, he was delicate and delightful in his peculiarity. The unearthly colors that played along the stone also toyed with the curled bits of his pelt. The prince was astonished, and completely awash with the color of moonlight.

The scent trail had gone cold, but Lucca's mind continued to whir in a chaotic mess of confusion and joy and terror. He had picked up on the all too familiar smell of @Tegan only days ago, back in a wood full of brambles, and followed it dutifully until it seemed to have run its course. Or, more likely, he had simply lost it. The boy cursed at himself and felt tears begin to sting the corner of his eyes, frustrated at both his incompetence and the entire circumstance.

Something had happened to him. The dull, metallic scent of blood had permeated his brother's scent along with a mix of other less familiar smells, and Lucca's anxiety had skyrocketed. Tegan was bull-headed and impulsive, but he was not a fighter. At least, he wasn't much of one try as he might to make the world think he was.

The Blackthorn weaved hurriedly through the forest until he emerged on the other side with nothing to show for it save a bunch of burrs that clung to his matted pelt. A wall, insurmountable and awe-inspiring stood before him, blocking his path and, with it, the chance of finding his brother. Soft, barely contained whines escaped from his throat, until they quietened when he suddenly spotted a dark, long-legged figure ahead — unwolf-like at first glance. Its stature unnerved him, but after several moments of staring, he started forward with hesitant steps and a bowed head.

"E-excuse me, mister," he called out softly to the lone stranger.

From the light there came a voice. 

It seemed that - for a moment - Cavendish was frozen where he stood. The rich color of his eyes scoured the altar, anticipating that some divine beast would appear before him. Much to his surprise, it was not the shape of some holy God, but the figure of a young child. 

His heart seized in his chest and the prince lowered his crown toward the earth. My dear thing, how ever can I help you? His voice was soft, and it seemed as though there was no way such a creature could do any harm. The warmth of his gaze rested on the timid boy with patience and understanding.

The stranger paused, then turned to him revealing a face that was so unlike those Lucca was used to that he let out an audible sound of confusion. The man looked as if he was part-deer, or at least seemed that way with his slender limbs and elongated muzzle. His fur was decidedly wolfish, however, a deep pitch in colour with a matching gaze. The boy shifted awkwardly, though the man's gentle words put him slightly more at ease. He dipped his head in turn, though not nearly in as regal manner as the other.

I-I'm sorry, sir, but I'm looking for my brother; he looks like me but lighter...and smaller...and he has a black stripe down his back a-and green eyes! He started slow, calm, but the words were quick to pick up their pace and began to tumble from his mouth breathlessly - once he had started he couldn't stop. I'm scared he's hurt and I've been trying to follow his scent but I lost it and now I'm even more lost and Tegan's a scout so I think he'd be okay but I'm really worried because, I mean, he's not the smartest wolf around but he's my brother and...and I...

The tears that had been mere pinpricks at the corner of his eyes now began to well and fall as he blubbered to the poor stranger who, moments ago, had just been minding his own business.

The explosion of words had not been something that Cavendish had expected from the youthful boy. In fact, when the eruption happened, the Prince widened his eyes and drew his thin ears forward to collect all of the information that was being cast at him.

It appeared as though the young man had lost his brother and he was worried for his well being. That was a difficult place to find oneself; Cavendish had also lost his brother Stahl to the great war. It had taken him a great while to find peace again. Though their stories were not the same, the dark hound did feel a pang of sympathy that struck him like an arrow through the chest. He wished that he had seen the young stranger's sibling; he wished that he could share some form of good news with the silver searcher.

“Oh, dear,” he muttered softly, sweeping his dark eyes from side to side. He felt as though he was a useless passerby to this young man. And – oh – his heart hurt for the youth, because he knew the pain of losing a sibling. At once, he felt a decision sweep through him and he fixed the younger fellow with a curling smile and a flagging tail.

“What say we search for him? I haven't anywhere to be, really, and I do know how hard it can be to lose track of a brother,” Cavendish suggested brightly. His mind wandered to Stahl for a moment before he forced the misery from his mind.