Dawnlark Plains It's not the end

Warbone was tracking Esaro. He took this time because the boy had sent a nonsensical message in an obvious bid for attention. He needed to be set straight— the former Phoenix needed to be shook up and shaped— and when the Marauder had sated his hunger and thirst, he left the borders in Teagan's stead and began his search for the runaway. He would not travel far, promising himself to only spend as much as a day hunting him, but luckily the injured young adult was not particularly hard to find.

He followed the metallic tang of Esaro's bloodied scent like a trail of smoke on the air— leading him straight to the fire. Coincidentally, he spotted a familiar black figure before he noticed the prone wolf he was looking for. He took her in evenly during his easy approach, and he watched her eyes, sharp and molten, as they briefly locked gazes. He stopped a few feet from them both, keeping his distance as his hard-edged face turned to Esaro. "You would waste my time?"