Dragoncrest Cliffs leave me a literature of toothmarks & tongue-tracks

To be back on familiar terrain made for an unimaginable relief. Although ultimately victorious in their end, they returned tired and worn anyway. It had been a long several weeks spanning many miles across the entire length of it all, and although it was now over, perhaps the entire triumph of it had not yet set in. Maybe the exhaustion, the aches and the injuries to tend were all just cluttering the notion.

Still, he heaved a relieved sigh and brought up the back of the group when they came upon their borders--and had he missed them. Only briefly, the commander caught his eye and he nodded knowingly.

It was with a tired voice that the pale wocha announced their return. They were home.

When Thuringwethil slipped away from them, he offered her no resistance and only a subtle but worried furrow of his brow. Noted, though, and he lowered his haunches into a sit at the edge of the gathering for now. In glancing over their returning party, it only felt natural to account for everyone before the others got here, and more dispersed into the packlands. He knew that soon, he would be on his way as well to someplace warm and quiet to try to sleep some of this off, and while he did, he only hoped his mate would not have her paws too full with everything they brought back with them. But, at the thought of seeing her again soon, he would keep the war-weariness at bay a while longer.

It did feel good to simply be stationary (his tired bones were very thankful for this) and surrounded by these stately redwoods, where the seasalt had come to remind him of all they protected here. When Wildfire arrived on the scene to greet her offspring, he couldn't help the small waver of his tail--again, reminded of why they had marched south at all.