Sawtooth Spire And I bet right now you're probably thinking that

@Phaedra @Thade @Astraeus and @Mahler if he'd be around for it — rendezvous move. Inspiration for the rendezvous, but spring instead of autumn.

Up and at 'em, Wylla called loudly, striding out into the overcast morning. She wore an air of purpose in the brisk shake of her coat, the way she glanced back to the den to make sure the pups were following, and the sharp shine of her yellow eyes. Time at last to leave musty dens behind and return to the outdoors, the way a wolf should live. She was grateful for the spacious cavern Quellcrist had gifted her, but they'd overstayed their welcome and she was eager for the open space of a larger expanse. Less paws in the ribs and more space for the cubs to separate themselves when they were in their moods was nothing but a blessing for her.

Today's a special day, she told them when they were presumably amassed and ready to go. Other parents might've turned it into an adventure with that proclamation, but Wylla was nothing if not direct. She wasn't prepared to deal with any meltdowns if she made it a surprise and they got to their destination and realized they'd left a favourite bone or piece of hide behind. We won't be coming back here. We're going to live with the rest of the pack now. If there's anything you want to take with you, make sure you grab it.

There was one other benefit to this move that Wylla was looking forward to: passing the care of sullen Astraeus over to the pack. For her blood-borne children, Wylla would remain a primary caretaker and teacher, but her definition of family was always black and white. She liked children, but through this endeavour, she'd quickly learned that mothering children who weren't her own wasn't in her DNA, and she looked forward to getting back to being the mother of two and handing the orphan's reins to someone else.

The spire-oriented queen was well ready to wash her hands of the double orphan peasant boy. There needn't be physical signs, there was something they would never share; the bond strengthened in the womb. Astraeus was used to being unwanted and emotionally secluded. The barrier that was his sullied attitude and mean-spirited nature kept anything else from leeching unto him; however the reason. The starry-imp refused outer authority in rightful extension.

Wylla wasn't about to dupe him in a swap shop! He wouldn't be sprayed with anti-Astraeus that easily. Leaps and skips away from the privileged babes, the pea boy shook himself and lifted his eyes to Wylla's in defiance. His lengthy snake-like tail whipped around, the sun could see for herself.

He imagined himself on the top of the world. Ranging beyond the mountains, higher than his head, maybe with Agana. If she had kept him. Stamping his foot, he retaliated. "nnnnNNnnnOooO!" Astraeus mustered. Words were not a gift to him, nor easily conveyed as a result. "Imma stay here'd! You vill get rid o' me!"

"that is not a goal of mine," mahler stated in his low rumble. wylla had collected das kinder and while he was prepared for questions, he moreover wished to put such accusations to rest. he had strode up to accompany them to the new point of their lives; he nudged phaedra, reached out to thade, and would have smoothed astraeus' bristling away if the boy allowed it.
glancing to wylla, who he treasured for nursing the motherless skarp mahler fell silent in case she wished to mete out justice for the refusal to heed her, or add any sentiment of her own. he would not claim his own brood as astraeus' siblings for she had set such boundaries around the notion. 
he supposed he was still barbed; the gargoyle recognized his own selfishness and swept the trio with a wider smile.

since this takes place after this thread, being vague about some things!

a cold, dreich may morning. the greensward of their yard and the trees that bowered it were moreso dislimned by the gloom-ridden clouds, still wet from an overnight drizzle. 
phaedra was uncharacteristically quiet as the three pups departed from their den for the last time, wearing an expression—conceivably inspired by the weather—enswathed by a bland listlessness, eyes still like a millpond as she reminisced about the heart-stirring dream she’d been loathly transported from by wylla’s loud clucking. 
phaedra was a portraiture of mixed media—outwardly she did not flinch at the revelation that they would not be returning to the only home they had known for her erstwhile forever, restraining her brows from knitting with with a rapid blink. inwardly, her heart opened up the throttle and preemptive homesickness suddenly fender-bent her adventurous spirit, leaving two smoldering vehicles to be towed away with everything she once knew. 
the lamb did her best to summon up an affect that passed muster for “not drawing attention or concern”, smiling a smile that did not reach her eyes.
”if there's anything you want to take with you, make sure you grab it.” her mother's advisement first passed her by with indifference. there was not a thing she could think of she wanted to take, her mind was too detached to make allowance for the finer feelings of object sentimentalism. 

~

with a great suddenness she gasped to remember her garden and at once wanted to cry. her fairy-circle. her peach tree with the fallen, juicy fruits she wrestled from ants. the abundance of fox-plums she gorged on until her tummy was fit to burst. so many days she played there, alone; some nights finding herself sneaking there just for the comfort of its imagined magick. her eyes spilt tears, but before anyone might see, she turned cheek and moved away from the rest of the group to somewhere unseen. 
after a private rendition of cry-me-a-river, she returned with the dandelions stag had procured for her over the days clutched in the glove of her maw; eyes slightly dewy but otherwise belying nothing of her acquiescence regarding their departure that sunless morning.
by the time she had arrived back, astraeus was mid-emotional haemorrhage, waxing hysterical about being displaced or something or other. phaedra glanced towards her mother hoping her expression would provide some sort of pretext for this tantrum, but there was nothing there to suggest she’d threatened the boy with being jettisoned. not that she’d mind it; he’d been nothing but a dirty rotten and fractious child … as they all oftentimes were, but this outburst, foot stomping and all, was an arrow from the blue, and unbecoming of someone who thought himself as imperial as the constellations. 
sparing him a brief but judgmental look, the girl slunk away to be alone until they were all set, half-hearing what mahler had to say of the situation. his nudge met her flank. she turned her head only slightly in response, giving him the edge of her crucifying stare, before pressing on and slumping against the wet trunk of a tree. 

Though he listened raptly, like a good boy, and agreed to all the "terms and conditions" with a stiff nod, Thade would not realize the significance of this event until it was far too late to protest it. He could not fathom the idea of never returning to this den, despite those very words being said to him. The implications of it all simply went over his head, and the Skarp felt nothing askew, because it was easy for disillusionment to settle.
They'd be back home tomorrow.
So he gathered up the most recently favorited chewing stick, which was a few good gnaws from being two sticks, and stood eagerly ahead of the small crowd, as if ready to lead them all forward. His lack of a headway notwithstanding, Thade seemed to have the confidence (and naivete) to presently undertake this change; manners which seemed absent in both his littermate and their unwelcome den-brother. Not that it took him long to notice.
Dropping his withered souvenir, the concerned child turned to reassure them. "S'okay, Phaedwa -- s'okay, 'Straeus. Ve -- ve, we jus' godda go live vit'th' res' of th' pack now." Whatever that meant. "Ve jus' godda.. jus' godda live vi -- wit' th' res' of th' pack now, okay?" His tail wagged high, childishly hopeful that his very dignified, rousing speech would coax the two from beneath their respective storm clouds.

Astraeus didn't need to say a single word to meet the full brunt of the Eisen's ire. His eyes met Wylla's and her lips instantly skimmed back, ears cupped aggressively forward and tail flung skyward as she crowded into his space and loose a full-bodied snarl, drowning out his crying. She wasn't known for having much patience to begin with, and his status as an orphan didn't garner him any additional pity. Not from her. Astraeus was alive only because she'd permitted him to suckle from her breast when his worthless mother abandoned him, and in return, he sulked and moped and carried on like a spoiled, ungrateful brat. She'd had it.

She snapped her jaws an inch from his tiny nose, giving him no quarter even though he was a child. You will do as you're told, Wylla boomed in Astraeus' face, harnessing the entirety of her dominant personality to loom over him, or you can find yourself a new home. Not another word from you, do you hear me? Look me in the eye again and I'll give you something to whine about. Perhaps Mahler would forgive Astraeus his sullenness because he was a child without a mother to call his own, and perhaps her severity toward the boy would shock the gentler Eisen, but none of his misfortune excused his terrible behaviour in her eyes. She would rather be harsh with a child one time than allow him to believe that such blatant disrespect to his superiors was acceptable.

When she was satisfied, she sauntered after Thade and Phaedra, rumbling a low note in her throat, but trying to lighten the mood by nipping affectionately after her son's tail. Thank god at least one of the three children wasn't in the dourest of moods.

phaedra snatched a portion of his soul with the knife of her eyes; mahler reeled within his head, wounded, but resettled upon the truth that it was he who had done wrong. thade attempted to comfort the bitter astraeus, but it was wylla who seized firm, fierce command of the reins mahler had let slacken.
he found himself too, collected by the uncompromising tone in his lover's voice, but did not take the heavy lilacstone of his stare from the prickly child. to be disillusioned was one thing — to be brattish and cruel was another. he should have done as a father might, yet it was wylla who had suffered the great brunt of astraeus' misbehavior.
and so he only looked with disapproval on the child, softened only if the boy should fall in line and follow the lithe stormcloud who was their matriarch, as he turned to do the same.

anyone can hear him closest to him too ? ?? 

Clasping his chapped lips whpped from the spires' winds, he shushed — avoiding the discomforting gazes of the quartet. The blunted småkniver fluffed up his bosom and retarted his ears. Have it her way. When he was skidding on starlight and the earth had relinqushed him, she'd be old and wrinkly anyways. Then he could shout at her from the cloudtops in turn. Daydreamer extraodinare — he lifted up his nose (sniffling because of hurt pride) he let the other go on before him before stomping along muttering:

"Old witch."

since thade went yeet, parents can close this up!

she didn't turn to see how the azure shard of her gaze had bit mahler, nor did she intend its occurrence; not consciously. a constellation of sorrow eclipsed the pretense she'd put on, and the deathlessness of her pain was an aching tattoo on her heart, always reminding her when it thrummed against her chest. he may not have known what she had been told, but the knowledge had tormented her since, and there was no chrism to chase out the demons or doktor in the world who could dress the bleeding wound.
once thade dropped his commemorative to reassure the rest of them, phaedra's eyes glimpsed the plaything with a wily shift of her eyes, ignoring the storm-wracked weather overhead from mother as astraeus was put in order. 
phaedra slunk past her papa, demonstrably avoiding his gaze as she passed, and jumped on thade's stick, collecting it in her mouth and engaging him in a ludic game of keep-away until mother called her fledglings into some manner of orderliness.
phaedra "let" thade redeem his stick (he rudely snatched it back from her, what of it), and moved towards the front of the procession to walk with her mother, catching astraeus' rather infra dig remark but feigned ignorance, affectless in her countenance as she moseyed on by (she didn't even know what a witch was ... perhaps he and thade had made their own boy-clubhouse-no-girls-allowed conlang to which she was not privy, on account of the no-girls rule).
phaedra would never understand what made him so surly, but she'd learned not to indulge his unstable hissy fits. disinterest made co-existing much easier.
as she drew up to wylla, she brushed up against her leg and didn't look back towards home, lest she start to openly mourn their departure. indifference. affectless. she gathered all of stag's dandelions back into her mouth and waited to break camp with a listlessness outlining her silhouette.

Last post! I'll leave it up for a few days before archiving, in case anyone else wants to sneak one in.

Fortune smiled on the insolent urchin that day; Wylla didn't hear his muttered insult. Astraeus got to keep his place in the pack for it, rather than facing the terminal end of Wylla's temper, although he'd lost any semblance of warmth the Eisen might've given him before for his earlier behaviour. That was what disrespect earned. If he wanted to pretend he was so alone and mistreated, then alone he would be.

Instead, she focused on Thade and Phaedra, whom she whispered a conspiratorial, race ya! to before shooting off at a gallop, leaving shedding the discomfort of Mahler's presence and the frustration of Astraeus' as she led the way to the rendezvous.