Moonspear Road kill has its seasons

Like the dark-haired matriarch, he too had been away. The day had been spent tracking a rather elusive and small cluster of deer that ultimately proved to be not worth the trouble. The winter snows were driving them away from the river at last, and it was no small hope that Dirge was waiting for them to draw near to the forests in the shade of the mountain. No more than a mile laid between him and the wooded cover of Moonspear's border when Hydra's call had risen up—the urgency had pushed from forward, out of the leisure pace he had been taking to weave nimbly between frosty trees.

Somewhere, albeit distantly, there was an echo of a mournful scream.

The sound of footfalls came to him first, the sort that were fast and noisy on compact snow. He had slunk to shadows and cover swift, uncertain of what would go by and where, when a figure tore past. In that wake, there were more steps; fast, predatory, a snarl trailing off in the crisp air. Darker figures went by in a blink and seconds later, he stole away towards the fringes of Moonspear's claim, passing two more wolves of nondescript before he emerged on their path. Whatever was going on, the unease that had gradual built made his belly churn. It was not hard at all to find the scene of a purported crime; the growing congregation was punctuated by a murmur of conversation and tears.

His ears came forward as he took in the scene, feeling as much of an outsider then as he had in weeks past. His gaze carried over the living, not finding a face he recognized. Nor did he recognize the wolf that was laid centerfold between them—his head whipped around the way he had come, not far off from where the chase had rushed past. His breath stilled as he listened for sounds of conflict—it was coming, he knew. He was torn between staying and going. There was an urge to go as he was just as certain Hydra had been one of those rocketing forms, but his urge to remain uninvolved held him back. There was nothing to be done for the one who had met an untimely end.

Bewildered as his gaze drew back to the crowd, he reached his decision—Dirge turned back the way he had come, and went to join the others. He did not rush headlong into the fray but rather take an investigating approach. If he was needed then he would be ready with a plan of action, but even on the fringes he thought he could help.

dirge is a bit late but y'all can powerplay him meeting up with the beatdown if you want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯