Cassiopeia's View BIG SKY COUNTRY

So far from home but Stark didn't find himself caring. There was in him an old itch, it wasn't tempered by the son he'd left at home or the sister he'd left behind, it wasn't tempered by the insolent denmother who behaved as if she was above reproach. Stark did not focus on the thoughts as he took to the wilds, snow frosting through his fur and only making him move faster. He licked his lips and drank in the sight of the world at large. He hadn't bothered to visit the Caldera again, finding Peregrine was dead was enough to burn the only ties he had there. Trick was there, for a bit, but he was so inconsequential that Stark couldn't care about him past the irritation of his betrayal. 

The fact his pack was rooted in the mountains was a great benefit to him. He'd scaled the expanse with far more assured feet than he could hope for given the pitch of the night. Even as high up as they were the dark depths of the sky was as vast and as empty as his thoughts had been. It was unbecoming, to say the least, and it wasn't truly like him. His mind never stopped. There was something kicking around in him. His feet had begun to burn. A shout in the dark made Stark pause, peering through the night as if he could somehow see. It wasn't possible, not past the arbitrary sense of it. 

He changed his course to find the source of the yelling, stumbling upon a male with a coat that made him think of Pepper. She had been gone for so long, but the brilliance of the red made him pause. "Don't fight it, if you can help it - struggling will make it worse."