Heron Lake Plateau The Dirge of Cerberus

The sun had long set on Teekon, condemning the land to brilliant darkness as the moon fell prey to the all-consuming storm clouds. Though snow no longer fell— the flurry having died down to a more tolerable windchill— the high drifts left behind proved challenging to any beast; even to the onyx spider slinking tediously across the plateau.

Sikuaq trudged through powder nearly reaching his chest, ears loosely folded back to display his discomfort. But it was not the snow that harassed him. He was accustomed to such conditions, his dark frame plowing along without a break in his monotonous jaunt. Rather, he was haunted by his isolation; anxious because he was unused to being without Tartok, and because the feeling of singularity did not settle well onto his lean, thick-furred shoulders.

It had been a mistake, not going first to his sister. He had located her and those that followed, but had not made himself known, overeager as he was to return to them with something of use. He'd gone beyond Everfall, and clear across Tuktu, scoping the crowds in the area until he had reached a line of mountains that finally bade him to turn back. It had taken him two days returning, and every few miles he'd called for her, @Silaluk— praising her name unto all across the Hinterlands— in case she had ventured from the mountain. Howling so that she might know who had come to support her.