Dragoncrest Cliffs jus drein jus daun

War was on his mind and had been since he’d been told about it; although his return was fresh, still, he could never forget the love he once—and still—felt towards the pack. The growing remnants of his loyalty for them drove him to act for them, as did the bond he still shared with Freyja; her old mentor was directly affected by Blackfeather, so he felt it his responsibility to help avenge her in any way that he could. As soon as the howl reached his ears, he set off in the direction it’d come from, wary of navigating the new territory but having faith in his senses. He could feel a great pressure within his chest, almost as if something was pressed against it, as Heda’s scent intensified.

Entering the space in which everyone gathered, he slowed to a stop and glanced over the group to have gathered thus far, recognising but a few faces—his sister’s included. Greeting her crossed his mind, though he never followed through with the thought. Even when they were younger, the two had never been particularly close—not like him and Freyja, or even him and Portia. They were related and he would have done anything to protect her back then—he still would, actually—but he had never known if she’d do the same for him; now that he was back, he doubted wholeheartedly that she would even spare him a glance, let alone fight for his life. Tearing his eyes away from her, he settled down a fair distance from the others, head turned and gaze lingering on the commander.