King Elk Forest through bog and brier

She is looking for a home she tells Mato and Delight, and the starlit king draws in a deep breath, offering a slight incline of his head. He has suspected as much — it’s not uncommon for a pack’s numbers and ranks to swell during the colder months when they habitually gravitate towards established packs to survive. He suppose that he cannot blame them for this most primal of instincts; but he is not a charity organizer and Tindómë will not house those who only seek to take advantage of them. It’s too much effort to make one selves an integrated part of the pack only to leave …though plenty of wolves had done it so far. Perhaps this is what is beginning to bar his heart: the wolves that had simply …left. He thinks of one in particular and his mouth is full of a bitter taste, his heart aching. Perhaps there is a valued reason for it but if there was why could she not confide in him? He wants to add that if she seeks to join them that if she leaves without at least letting him and Delight know first…if she just vanishes as quickly as she came then she will never be welcomed back with tongue sharpened by the pain of loss. For now, he bids it to be still. Not yet. Really, he should discuss it over with Delight who is his right hand first. Having nothing to add to Delight’s explanation and questions Mato remains a silent judge and jury, waiting for her response.

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