King Elk Forest they paint the world full of shadows

Mato’s gaze do not lift from the king elk as he gives a low snort, pausing in his chewing to swing his head towards the two wolves that observe him eat but returns back to grazing. He is not uneasy, not perturbed. He knows, Mato thinks, that neither male has deigns of making an attempt on his life. The druid’s umbra dusted ears flicker back and rest comfortably lowered to his skull, a contemplative gesture as Delight speaks his theory: that the king elk notices, if nothing else. The empyrean is in agreement there: at least he notices. He acknowledges, though if it is a desire to preserve his own life or an actual understanding of what they say to him the druid has still not been able to work out. “Alright,” The empyrean offers his subordinate as Delight speaks of a nameless girl that he met that has harbored a curiosity towards them. Morwinyon wonders, however, if she will actually find their way to them or not. Tindömé has always been small and since their founding they had not had any come to their borders seeking to join. Perhaps, Mato contemplates, they are too far south in the map but, at the very least, it has brought them peace from the warring northern packs far too close together despite the distance that separates them. He made a good choice, he believes, in choosing a territory that is not populated besides them but he supposes that in order to have one, the con of not getting a lot of interested visitors also comes hand in hand with it. “Do you think she will actually come?” The druid inquires then, voicing the path his thoughts have taken aloud.