Bearclaw Valley don't let the ever rolling motion go and get you down

It was an awful feeling that hounded him, eager to drag the male down and revert him back to a previous variant of himself. He did not take kindly to the feeling, lingering at the mouth of the valley, the lands beyond his home calling to him—but their call was one he could, and would, not answer, for he despised the idea of leaving the valley unattended; it had sat empty for so long after his family fell apart, he would not allow a repeat of that. And so he stared, queer eyes trailing over the dips and curves of the world around him until his frustration grew too great and he was forced to tear himself away from it all, walking stiff-legged into the depths of his valley.

Alexander wad guided unknowingly towards his old whelping den, his legs acting on their own; he did not outright avoid the area, he simply felt lost now when he looked at it—at his children, too. But he did not alter his path, not even after realising where he was going. He continued forward, even sped up once he caught Indra’s scent; although he doubted that she would harm his children, there was still some stranger urge in his chest that forced him to get there as quickly as he was able, needing to look the puppies over.

Slowing, he looked to Indra first as he came upon the den, then glanced towards Marten before, finally, his gaze settled on his eldest daughter. Something didn’t seem quite right, but he could not piece together just what it was. For reasons unknown even to him, Alexander approached Nunataq and nudged her gently, urging her to get up and allow him to usher her back towards the den. In the process of doing so, he looked towards the fiery woman and asked, “Do you know how long she’s been out here?” Because he definitely did not.