Moonspear words are sharp and filled with poison

Charon had gone looking in the territories surrounding Moonspear, but he'd found nothing. He wanted to go a bigger search, if not only to press the facts in Jorunn's face if he did return, but then again, the first time around he hadn't even believed them when they said they had looked everywhere for him after he'd disappeared. Why would it be any different now? He may as well spare himself the effort, and anyway, Jorunn had grown into a haughty asshole in his time away from his family, so maybe he'd just up and left. It seemed like odds of him having left were bigger than that he'd be dead or something else had happened to him, and so Charon found himself not all that torn on whether or not to go look for him. He wasn't worth the effort and time.

The howl came as a surprise to him, too, and he headed it, if not only to see what Jorunn had to say for himself. When he approached, it was unmistakable that his scent was gone from Jorunn. Charon carried himself befitting of his role in the pack, even moreso in the presence of Jorunn (who, as far as Charon was concerned, deserved an ass-whooping). His tail was curled over his back and he carried his head tall, chin up, chest forward. Flóki had already voiced what was most important to know. Besides, Jorunn had called for them. He probably had something to say, then. Charon waited, hoping to see Jorunn's presence melt and for him to show the submission he ought to at Moonspear's borders — a pack his scent betrayed he was no longer part of — so that he would not have to physically take it himself.