Moonstone Quarry dont you worry child.

with the begrudging admittance that he was too old to be playing a young man's game — of striking out to make his own pack for he was older than arturo was now when he made teaghlaigh ...or if not older than close to the same age. he'd been the tyrannical conqueror, he'd been the nightfell king, he'd been a leader and half a father, if not a phantom entirely, to the kids he's sired during his wandering of the season. it was time, he thinks, to set his ambitions elsewhere.

distraction clouds his direction and he lets his mind wander as he paces thru the quarry; the sound of a raven breaking his revere. wintersbane starts and glacial gaze scours the quarry spread before him to land upon the bird in question and then a bit further to a figure that strikes him as familiar. hesitantly, the tundrian ghosts nearer before realizing that he does recognize her. the girl that could be his daughter — and the creeping suspicion that perhaps she was though in all fairness he had no way of knowing for sure. he could easily be the man eager to claim all children that looked like him as his when they could be the spawn of some other man.

miwa, he chuffs in greeting, eyeing the bird wearily before deciding that where he presently stood, while too far away to hold a conversation comfortably, was plenty close enough.