Moonspear Find me where the wild things are

In her wake he followed again, amused with the eagerness that came to her features. If he were to draw anything at all from the gusto she carried, it was that perhaps she was dedicated to her noble craft. Dirge did not share this in full, but it was hard not to fall into step behind her, or to keep the pace she set; the energy was as much infectious as it was welcomed, and he did not tire of trailing her through the mess of timber and stone.

As it were, she did not seem keen on leaving him behind. Over a dip and a rise later, he found that she had slowed, and he moved to close in the distance between them with a reassuring wave of his tail. He hadn't ditched her, and she hadn't ditched him; all was well. The conversation could continue.

”I wander, mostly,” he rejoined, not so sure how to answer her question. Lately it had been less about wandering and more about trailing after and getting in the way of Hydra's routine, but that hardly seemed appropriate to answer with. It would only generate more questions and Dirge was nothing but evasive when he wanted to be.

His statement trailing, but he continued to elaborate: ”When the weather's decent, that is. I busy myself by watching the herds, tracking them too. I explore the mountain. Pales in comparison to the work you've set out to do, I believe.” And perhaps not, as the two were yin and yang and then some on the grand scheme of things. They all had a role and they all played a part, but like his evasiveness he could not help make subtle strokes at someone else's ego.