Moonspear time is up, time has flown

The young wolf listened diligently to the golden male. Atlas knew only a few things with complete certainty. One of them was that he could always trust his father to be honest with him. He knew that he would receive an answer that made the most sense. As Dirge spoke, this became far more evident. Relief washed over him, yes. It had been confirmed that such worry was natural, that it plagued even him. To the young boy, that offered a sense of peace. If they shared the same worry for their claim, perhaps it would allow for them to increase its fortitude – together.
 
A breath of air rushed from his mouth as the dark young man laughed. It was not done because his father had said anything funny in a common way, only that Atlas had found it odd how the man’s words had settled the unease without offering any promises. That was a skill he wished he could take.
 
“With the prey scent as strong as it has been, I think we may be able to enjoy some of this for at least a short while,” Atlas commented thoughtfully. Worry, yes, but they could also enjoy the fruits that blessed them. “Osiris has turned into quite a skilled hunter, I’ve noticed.” The words felt as though they carried something of a bitter weight. The shade could not help but to envy his sibling for the talent he had found so early on. He was proud, of course. Osiris was something to be proud of, he thought.