Ouroboros Spine aftaim

Dragomir could not scrub the image from his mind.
Having finally laid to rest his conflicting emotions about Hydra and Arcturus, he stole away from his lone vigil in the eastern heartlands and sought to meet with the Moonspear matriarch, if only to catch up, and found it in ruins. It was like a colossal fist had struck the center of the mountain and caused its face to collapse inward, strewing rubble along every ridge he once knew. It was surreal, and the sight of it took his breath away and forced him to sit for a time.
A pack once so mighty in his regard, now erased entirely.
Dragomir went north after that, padding along on aimless paws that carried him to a squat ring of shorter mountains. Now what? There were no trails remaining to suggest the former Moonspear wolves had gone elsewhere, and he passed by the glen entirely without ever noticing the pack scent there. He was of half a mind to visit the ocean his father had adored, chasing away the haunting question of whether Isi had been there while the mountain shuddered and if she still drew breath, when he stopped dead at the collected scents of various wolves in the valley.
Although he knew only one among them, and only informally in passing, and not well enough to put a name to it, there was something familiar enough about the smell that he paused there a long while, conspicuously lingering and lulled into some faraway recollection of snow in the mountains.