Sun Mote Copse somebody's calling, trying to track me down

@Wraen <3

discomfiture stole over arcturus entirely; he could not spend one moment on the 'spear any longer.

so he ranged, letting his feet carry him where his heart desired -- and his heart brought him not to the wilderness, but to wraen's doorstep. the subconscious had a strange way of preparing for things: in arcturus' muzzle was the flight feather of a small winter wren. he had seen it in the snow and seized it on a whim, and before he knew it, he was standing on the firebird's borders, confused (and his heart knowing) on exactly how he had come to be here.

he covered the feather with a dark paw and sat down. he could call for wren, but he did not trust the wavering of his voice. he could sit here in wait, but on general principle, arcturus did not like to idle.

summoning what little bravery existed in his fluttering heart, arcturus threw back his head and howled.