Moonspear cadw addewid

he did not recognize the howl that cut a keening song above the mountain’s bladed peaks, and already set to watch the borders like some grim gargoyle anointed to a task, arcturus set to the ridgelands below. 

whatever visitor on their doorstep was assured a cruel and rude awakening; both souls he called for had since departed, and the idea of breaking such news set arcturus’ teeth on edge as he approached. there was a pair of them; one gold, one silver — arcturus took a moment to inspect the aureate traveler, his expression one of misplaced familiarity until he called to mind the noble features of llewellyn. 

arcturus fought back a hoarse gulp, his throat dry as he stood before them. he did not wish to even speak the words that lingered at his tongue; these immutable words that he wished a thousand-fold were erroneous. they’re dead. his golden eyes fell on llewellyn almost challengingly; it was a brusque and unnecessary delivery, but arcturus had never been an eloquent wolf, and did not beat around a bush — not when its sides were so agonizingly thorny.