Moonspear the notes of a strained refrain

The young wolf of the mountain had grown to be disappointed in himself and the experience he had made for himself in the world. For the majority of his first year, he had remained within the pack out of obligation to his mother and the duty that he felt was owed to his family. The shade had reminded himself that he did not have a purpose beyond serving his family, but he could not help but look to his siblings with envy. Even Osiris - the most dutiful of them all - was creating relationships with those beyond their borders. Atlas was left roaming the borders like a caged dog, eager to snap at anything that drew too near. 

His heart was in the best place, but he could not help but dwell in his limited ventures, never beyond the edges of Moonspear. As he set out that day, Atlas could not help but to wonder if it had developed into nothing more than fear. The idea that his habits could turn to comforts so easily frustrated him. His lip curled and the shade quickened his pace across the terrain and toward the southern valley. It did no good for him to dwell on it, but he recognized the crippling squeeze of his stomach at the very thought of roaming outside of the family's claim. Even seconds after he had felt it, he knew how foolish he was. 

Catching the sight of the gold-touched Dirge, Atlas chuffed to announce himself and loped to close the remainder of the gap between them. Once he had drawn beside his father, the young Ostrega glanced to the figure and breathed a quiet sigh. Where to today? his breath struck the air in a soft plume. Winter would be upon them within a month or so. Atlas looked out beyond where they stood and drank in the scents carried by autumn wind. There was a shift in the air, for certain.