Stone Circle please god. be kind to me.

Despite his reluctance to leave Roangeda's fen with the weight of so many uncertainties looming over them, Dacio was a wolf of his word. He'd made a promise to stand at the young Worlida's side on what he fully expected to be another trip that would provide them with no answers, regardless of his quiet contemplation on the matter. Vercingetorix, for whatever reason, had once been dear to Praimfaya. Dacio, however, could not think of him as fondly.

He was natrona, a decision he'd made that aided in Drageda's downfall, and one that Dacio could not find it in him to forgive. His frustration surrounding the entire thing often roused a desire in him to say no to Praimfaya's suggestion of a wild goose chase, to tell her that this traitor was undeserving of her loyalty. It was difficult to bite back, to remind himself of a vow he'd made to support her, yet he continued to stoically withstand.

He had to remind himself: this effort was not for Verx. It was for the aspiring Wanheda. It was for Dragomir and Isilmë, the children hunted by Blackhead - the latter of whom was missing.

Dacio and Praimfaya's arrival to the circle of stones where Easthollow made their home was a cautious one, and the sterling Klikalida kept watch as his young charge tilted her muzzle skyward to send forth a summoning call. His voice did not join hers, but instead he gazed on through the mist with charcoal ears alert atop his crown in search for the approach of strangers.