Sun Mote Copse she's been living on the highest shelf

Whatever drama that unfolded between his prior packmates was mostly lost on the golden Ostrega. Towhee was bummed about something these days—and he was pretty sure Phox was pretty preoccupied these days as well. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—it was simply that he didn’t want to barge into the business of others.

So Pippin did what Pippin did best—he kept to the shadows and to himself, keeping curious watch from afar to his new pack mates and considering his place among them. Asterism Grove had felt more of a home to him than Firebirds, but it didn’t seem logical, given it was primarily Towhee he followed.

Whether he liked it or not, he would need to better integrate himself with the others. Try to trust in them, even if his ability to easily do such an act had been left within Hushed Willows many, many moons ago.

Wraen was the first he came across, and he considered her a moment. She seemed uptight—the sort that was the fun police in most matters. But what did he really know about her?

Plodding forward, Pippin ignored the stiffness in his haunch from his prior injury, now healing quite nicely and with a badass scar serving as the only visible memory. Hawk-like eyes upon his leader, the Ostrega was about to utter a greeting when he noted she seemed to be tracking something, and so the male drifted closer to her, waiting to see her reaction to his presence.