Emberflame Ridge She appears in his dreams

Warbone achieved some rendition of "road blindness" as he went, drifting in and out of a consciousness that knew exactly where he was. He moved automatically, a tracking machine that could have followed Octavia's trail in his sleep. After a time— when the afternoon was lengthening, reaching for night— he found the spot were she had met with her mate, and the scent of Reek woke the male up. His tail swayed as he ventured the area for a while, and then followed the twin trails back to the Grotto. He stopped neatly at their borders, ears pressed forward as eagerly as his nose, and his eyes were wide and searching. Hopeful, maybe.

But after about fifteen minutes, he stopped feeling anything at all. He compartmentalized, and rationalized the situation and pulled himself away from such a useless thing as anticipation. Or even desire. Such things had no place in a lone wolf's heart— There was simply no time for it. She was safer with her pack, anyhow, and now that he was certain she had made it, he could be on his way. Warbone's head lowered, angling with his shoulders as he began to amble away into darkness.

A hunt would filter his thoughts, clouded by a vast and complete loneliness, so that was what he did.