Altar of Twilight and our time is flyin'

While compared to the rest of his family and pack, Jarilo was flying low beneath the radar of all the Moonspearian tension best he was able to, but the effects were not lost on him even then. The friction between his parents had spurred the real beginning of it, then Hydra's heat helped speed it right along, but he had gone avoidant mostly and tried to splice it with good old-fashioned obedience to help stay busy when he could--because it was when he did what he needed do that he learned more. Alongside that much, other pieces of information did find him, as did the telling scents of who was where, and who was not where they should be as he skimmed over their borderlands on patrol and watch, hour after hour. 

So although he tried to exist on the fringes of it all to preserve his own tail, he was not completely in the dark.

He knew enough to know he was worried, plain and simple, and feeling it in ways he never had before from his head to toes. Every unknown that he didn't understand came to him as a knot of stress in his gut. His teeth were sore from grinding them without realizing it when angst bore down on him too. Once again, in further looking for any outlet for these strange frustrations that he could not put into words beyond that he didn't like it--or the meltdowns all around him--he slogged along, confused. Oddly wounded, slighted, although nothing had happened to him.. and maybe that absence was what was wrong sometimes, as if an uncertainty about what was to come wasn't enough.

And although he had been dutiful in staying home, unlike so many, late in the afternoon today his paws took his down the mountain and beyond into the valley. He was gaining momentum by the time the fields spread open around, and for reasons he didn't know how to place other than a faint scent to the winds, his heading went south with a faraway look in his eyes.