Sawtooth Spire saints have no moderation

his shadow is gone.

where she went to, worripa doesn't know; only knows that her scent no longer lingers over these mountains. perhaps, he considers: it is his fault ...or perhaps it was for the better. despite that, that particular thought does little to combat the sinking feeling in his chest.

the loneliness and pain of her disappearance.

thus, in the sugary sweet moonbeams of the early morning before the dawning of a new day, worripa sulks in the ( perceived ) safety of sawtooth spire; feasting upon the fresh(ish) corpse of a mountain goat that had been unfortunate enough to loose it's footing and fall to it's untimely death.

this time, worripa made sure he was not eating contaminated meat after the last time he'd been sick for a few days from the last boon. he eats small portions from it at a time after dragging it into the mouth of a cave for safe keeping. feeling no adverse side effects, he eats a little more; growling as he tears into the flesh.

Nyra didn't leave the canyon for as long anymore. Or as often. But today, it seemed, was different. 
The Grandmaster took to the southern areas of her mountains, and eventually came upon young Worripa as he tore into the corpse of the unfortunate goat.

She chuffed loudly to announce her presence to him, coming to a stop some yards from his meal. 
"Have you spoken with your shadow?" She inquired, having no way of knowing he was currently companionless. Her intense gaze watched him for his answer, verbal or not. And almost routinely did she look around, and back in the direction of the canyon.

the white, scarred woman finds him again.

unruly and sulky and simmering with rage, he turns quickly; as if he is spooked. his hackles bristle as hunger grumbles in his belly.

no, no, no, no —

temperamental and missing the shadow, it is through barely held together restraint that he does not bear his teeth at her. surely, she does not deserve his ire but worripa is so very used to lashing out.

always to those who did not deserve it.

yes. he lies; not wanting to admit that in a turn of events that he entirely deserved she left him. justice had extracted her revenge for his abrupt abandoning of rivenwood ...and he didn't like it one bit.

Nyra watches him turn as if startled. The brooding glower in the youth's eyes as he answers with confirmation.

A sniff in his direction, and she could tell he had no recent scent of others on him. A knowing glint passes her gaze briefly, but she'd let his lie slide.
"And what is your verdict?" Nyra rumbled. 
Already, she could tell the kid wasn't looking likely to join her ranks. 
Even so, she'd hear him out.
Or chase him out perhaps, if he decided to be a brat.
Time would only tell.

he wants to snipe back that it's none of her business, that if he'd wanted to join he'd have sought her out. he knew where she and her's dwelled. he knew and he had not tried to find them. but he had a performance to put on ...he'd lied and told her that he'd found his shadow and thus he had to continue on with it.

we are leaving these mountains. a truth. the shadow had already left them, though he is clueless as to where she'd went ...and without her there was no reason for him to continue to linger here.

"I see. Good luck to you then." Nyra concluded after a small pause. With that, she turned and began to walk away. 
He would be justified, if he had snapped at her. 
Though Nyra didn't really know that Worripa wanted to yell, his thoughts were valid. 
Without another word or glance back, the Grandmaster kept departing.

their conversation is quick to end — surprising given that his answer was less than favorable in regards to joining her cause. but worripa sees no point in lingering here if his shadow wasn't around and it was clear from the lack of scents that she had moved on ( or gotten lost or something ). worripa offers no parting response, instead watches her until her figure disappears. once she does, he takes a last sweep of the place ...having no worldy possessions to gather and departs himself.