Golden Glade Territorial Pissings (All of Your Base are Belong to Us)

In typical proceedings, life was quick to come crashing down around him in one fell swoop, only to throw him headlong into something else entirely. The homebody in him had been so very miserable, and winter was taking its bold toll upon them. Everything ached. But, because of this, he was understanding why they were about to do what Reek intended.

He couldn't say why, besides just to survive, but here he was. Loathe to be away from Tambourine's immediate vicinity, yet not at all envious of the former Maurader's duty to puppysitting without his toes, Silas felt horrifically out of place as he marched on in the back of the group. From back here, he could watch everyone, everything. He had to learn fast and emulate what he saw. The dark yearling was only a tracker, a hunter at his very best.. not a proud warrior! Everyone else seemed to meld seamlessly into the role of at least some semblance of courage, bolstered and enlivened with comrades at their side. Silas probably just looked worried -- ears down, eyes darting, and a long slinky gait as they moved into the glade. It did seem like a nice place, at least.

When they paused, then sang their intentions, he mustered his voice and joined their chorus.