Northstar Vale we are stardust stories

Respect unless prompted otherwise and no trespassers tolerated. In truth, it was fairly straightforward and pretty close — if not spot on — to how Sebastian guarded his own borders. “And how should we handle strangers that linger at our borders that do not rise call to alert us to their presence?” Mato inquires, thinking of the strange boy he (and Redshank) came across the other day: the one of silver and sand. Admittedly, Mato had met him with suspicion and retained that suspicion throughout the entire meeting, but it would be refreshing to hear how Rannoch expects that sort of border run-in handled and Mato would adjust himself accordingly, as if he is a clock whose hands simply need a little nudge to the right time. An umbra dipped ear swiveled atop his crown and he offers a sage nod and a soft noise of confirmation when Rannoch tells him he is to meet Mouse and make the other feel welcome. “I will seek him out after our patrol.” Mato promises, knowing that it is beneficial that the members of the Vale are, at least, familiar with one another.

“Feathery Woods?” Mato inquires with a head tilt, a tickle of mirth threatening to rise up his throat. For some reason, the name amused him. “I’d like to see this Feathery Woods, to see why they call it such.” Perhaps the leaves look like feathers? Or perhaps it is filled with downy soft moss? For though Mato was the first to bring up the topic of alliances he is nevertheless surprised when Rannoch extends the question of whether or not alliances is something the druid would be interested in assisting Rannoch with. He had asked because he believes it is the duty of all pack members to be well versed in the politics of their pack. “I could try to assist,” Mato draws in a contemplative tone. “I am not sure how good of a diplomat I’ll make but I am always willing to try something new.” Mato offers with a lofty rise and fall of his shoulders. He had always thought such a task was left to leaders as opposed to mere subordinates — or youths (especially youths!) for sometimes he forgets he is not even yet an adult; surely an easy enough mistake for he is mature beyond his age.

Mato pauses, then, as a errant scent catches his attention but he lifts his leg to mark over it — a fox scent a few days old — and makes to catch back up to his Haran.