Moonspear fulthark

He thought it an empty gaze that held him first, but thought it betrayal; even the glassy surface of a pool was capable of belying it's own depth, and it was into those dark wells he dared to gaze. If it had been a carefree action that had lured him it, it now morphed into something else—fearful, almost infantile. Yet the wolf before him was most certainly not a child.

Perhaps if he had been, there may have been a softening to his own features, but as it were he found that he had little desire to let up on the intensity of his own unspoken language. He found himself wishing that @Arcturus had been there still, someone better suited for the brusque deliverance, better suited for the dealings of happenstance travelers and their differing ways. But he was not and there was no one yet to play voice of reason, to play another angle, and Dirge was not inclined to believe there would be. He had fallen into a solitary routine, the expectations could place him in one of a hundred of places.

@Hydra would know if he had been there before; his tenure only afforded him knowledge of so much and so many, and admittedly a fair portion of it from before was long buried like the roots of the trees that enveloped them. Like the prone-settled fellow, those lateral roots were lost and left to branch out alone. He's left with naught more to do than probe for resources through addled soil like the spark of something inexplicable in the depths of a hollowed yellow-bellied creature.

"We all are from time to time, but why do you think this is your home?"