King Elk Forest winding way

The empyrean hears Delight’s call rise through the crisp and chilly air that bespoke the early vestiges of winter and shifts his course to make his way towards the borders where the other male’s summons had risen from. His ears twitch as he closes the distance, not forgetting the conversation that he last held with Delight: of the potentially interested woman he’d spoken of and Mato’s confession of his feelings regarding their location. It had felt good to get it off his chest in any capacity but it still haunts Mato: the weight of the pros and cons and the worry if Burke could handle a move like that. Of course he still needed to make that trip to Northstar Vale and he acknowledges that if he’s going to pay a visit now is the time: when their borders are not frequented by anyone other than those of Tindómë. He knows he needs not to worry about anything: he trusted his wolves impeccably and the Hinterlands were secluded ( for better or for worse he is still debating ). The Morwinyon’s steps slow as he nears the pair, letting out a low chuff of greeting and inquiry as his tail wags over his back: affirming that he is the starlit king here and that this is his domain. Appearances are everything to the vain druid after all.