Cassiopeia's View The hand of Gods

I cannot change their fate. He says then, his body muzzle turning and his red eyes befalling the little woman once more. This is the will of the Gods. There was, really, nothing he could do about the star falling. Nothing he could will that would have stopped the mountain from crumpling. Nothing in his power to keep it held together and from tearing down the mountain side into the glen below.

He frowns and turns back. Hemlocke could however, help. But to what cost? The shadow cared little for his own wellbeing in getting harmed while trying to help save, recover and heal those in need, so why not help? Simply because, if anything, the Moonspear wolves were not his family. Not his friends, his pack, his allies. They were all but strangers to him and his placement was with the Saints. Should only they command it of him, would the hellhound leave his charge.

Go to them, then. He would finally beckon her, a jut of his muzzle given. If she cared for them, if she wanted to risk her own self worth, then so be it.