Moonspear Linger

They descended on Whip one after the other; not quite a pair, but with only enough time between them for Gannet to finish a single, probing word. At first, Whip didn't quite recognize his brother. So much had changed in the year he had spent away. His brother was older -- his youthful features having changed, sharpened. However, his brother's black paws easily gave away his identity. Unlike Whip, Gannet's markings had always been more distinct. His partner, though Whip regarded her with some vague recognition, was ultimately a stranger with an unfamiliar scent. Watching. Judging.

"Yeah," said Whip, nodding curtly. "Surprised?" He supposed that was a safe assumption, as Whip was surprised to that his brother still lived. Perhaps he had been lucky, avoiding the perceived ruin of the Caldera just as Whip had. He stepped closer, ears deferentially folding back. "The mountain, is it yours?" Whip pondered aloud, believing the woman beside his brother to be his bethrothed.