Deepwood Weald All hail the Night Mother!

Aries had not been far from the ebony wolfess as the call rose on the wind, and dark silver ears tipped forward on his crown to listen before following. The wind whipped around his pelt, ruffling the ashen fur of his pelage and causing his gaze to squint against the glare; it was good to get among the trees again, to wrap himself in the cover of darkness that the canopies provided - it felt more secure, and the soldier's pace began to slow as he came across Nyx and a stranger.

Aries flicked his eyes over the newcomer's figure, wondering who he was and why he was here - protective as always, but necessarily so: there were countless dangers when it came to those outside of their circle, and the Svartell was not always willing to take the risk. His job was to defend. He was the group's sword and shield, and would never say no to a task required of him, no matter how perilous. 

Svelte figure sliding to close the distance between them all, the starborn stood and cast his stoic vision toward the raven queen, awaiting her words before any of his own would slip from his tongue and into the frigid air.