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The voice was a familiar one. It brightened her spirits in the quiet days; Tartok kept to themselves, and so, too, did the world. This was the way things were meant; none bothered them, and in turn, they bothered none. When they were strong enough, they would overtake Neverwinter. That had been the plan, once. But now there was nothing to overtake. The wolves had gone without word or warning as the weather grew cooler and winter approached. With the whole region to themselves, Tonravik was none too worried on finding food and keeping it their own despite the scarcity. In the following days, she would seek some herself. They lived on the meat of the mountain, though that would wane to nothing if they kept on in this way. They would need to find herds to hunt, and fast. There was not one due for a while, but it would not bode well to wait and find a herd that might not exist and waste all their preservatives and provisions.

Tonravik moved toward the sound of the call, howling back in response as she neared: I am coming. Her long-legged strides did not cease even as she saw him, but she slowed if only slightly so that the impact she would create would not be too great that it would rattle him. She intended, of course, for their bodies to collide so that she could roughly greet her little brother—who truly was not so little, only in comparison to their family members—her body lurching forward so as to encompass him in her furs and arms. They were militaristic professionals, and affection was not in their nature; the few times their affection could be seen, it was roughly administered.

Her tail arched and waved. She was not sure if he had moved away, but she would doggedly follow with her dark eyes. Tonraq, too, had inherited their fathers eyes. Their similar names and their inheritances from their father, Kilgharrah, was not all they shared. They were, despite the lack of visible love, undoubtedly closer than any siblings could wish to be; it was the same for each litter. When reared by Siku and Kilgharrah, they had only had one another to compete with, to look to, to overcome. It made them closer. The falsehood and comfort of forever was not there. At any time, a sibling could go; the realities and cruelty of life was known implicitly by the cubs, always. And when they were old enough to be chased off, even then they had one another, and it was never petty abandonment. They had purpose.

And so, Tonravik was glad to see him returned, having sent him off. It was only when she smelled meat that she withdrew to look at the gift he brought. Old, but good; sustenance was sustenance. She nodded in thanks, licking her chops and observing him candidly. Tonravik wondered if he would be here to stay, if that was why he returned. She had not asked it of him; but Tartok stood for Tartok, and sometimes, things happened in this (pleasing) way.