Hushed Willows tangled hills and tiny verio singing

Stark couldn't allow his guard to drop. Not now, when they had lost a wolf to starvation, not now, when the pack was trying to settle under the two female Alpha's. Though he had never heard it spoken openly, the dissenters numbers were steadily dropping. Trick and Nova Rose were alone in their grumbling, the hopes that Warbone would just reappear was becoming smaller. If the male did return he was uncertain how the females would handle such a thing; who would leave their position, if they did so? 

There was also the matter of Reek. It was a great distance from the Grotto to the Keep, and Stark had made it at the height of the famine. Now that the grass was returning the prey was also coming back - only a few days ago he and Silas had caught a hare, though he made the pup take it back to his family. There was a chance the male would have the strength to come looking for his son, if he could tear himself from his religion long enough to do so. Stark didn't like the idea of Reek coming around, but the prospects of being followed, of being found had dwindled in the weeks since the visit. 

So it left Stark mulling his thoughts, caught in a summer storm as he was heading back in towards the Crook. The rain was welcome compared to the heat, his dark pelt seeming to just attract all manner of unpleasantry. His blue eyes caught another figure moving, a male he didn't know well but seemed to be one of Harlyn's wolves. "Heading in?" He asked, assuming the thunder was keeping everyone bound inside.