Blackfeather Woods and he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower

skipping @Fire with permission!

as mou speaks the tundrian's glacial gaze flickers to him and settles, waiting for him to dispel his words. he does, in some way or another. stating that he wasn't screech and the name jolts something hidden deep in the recesses of wintersbane's memory. his gaze hardens and he looks at mou again, intensely this time because he's met him before. he'd been less scarred last time they met and wintersbane swears mou's fur hadn't been so ...washed out but the markings are too unique for it to be anyone else. it hadn't been an overly important meeting at the time and the spar they'd agreed on ...for whatever reason wintersbane couldn't even remember now hadn't ended up happening; and even as realization dawns on him, wintersbane does not bring up their past meeting.

it didn't matter, really. mou clearly didn't remember and his willingness to give himself over to the redhawks for what he'd done in regards to fire helps to soothe something in the tundrian even if the dark priestess does not agree and vehemently will not allow his sacrifice. the listener's word is final: she would go and he would accompany her — there is a certain relief that wintersbane feels knowing that because he can protect her if he goes along, if the ace up his sleeve fails him.

wintersbane shifts his weight, preparing himself for the task of becoming the stalwart sentinel to the prisoner, his gaze touching each of them in turn: pack-mate and prisoner alike before it settles back upon relmyna.