Bramblepoint one for sorrow

Summer had become distracted in his mission to return to the Sunspire. He had somewhat anticipated that the pack would no longer be there, and yet it had still felt like a blow to learn that it was so. The truth had not waylaid him permanently from his intention to return to the Spire, but the urgency he'd felt since leaving Sedona had been lost.

And so, the Ostrega took to the Wilds now instead, exploring lands he had likely only ever seen with blurry eyes and dulled senses. The naturalist knew that Winter would be soon upon him, and as confident as he was in his strength, he knew that it was foolish to remain on his own through the season. He would have to join a pack, though not even the threat of winter would make him lower his standards enough to throw himself in with whatever one he found first.

Although, the current ache of his stomach did have a fairly decent point.

The black wolf grumbled to himself as he made his way through the woods. The underbrush was thick and full of wicked thorns that mussed his fur in a way that he found quite irritating. He had just paused to clean a patch of fur that he become tangled when a sound touched his ears. He turned with narrowed, suspicious eyes to gaze into the brambles. The wind was not in his favor, and so he moved towards the sound, driven by curiosity and some other feeling he simply could not place.