Lake Rodney outside the sky waits, beckoning

Reyes found he benefitted greatly from a routine, which was a far-cry from what he was used to during his youth. The chaos of pirates had long since left him, then came his time at the Caldera, the building of family, the evolution in to the ever-present, dutiful father that fed and protected what was his own; now this shift, from that role to something in-between. Not a father except in title; a protector though not of his family. Yearning, always, to redeem himself.

Work had become all that he was. Patrols became infrequent on the days that Reyes focused on hunting - and when he grew frustrated with the antics of prey, he turned to the long and solitary hours of patrolling. When the call arose along the border he was in the middle of scouting a region of the fen he had yet to fully map for himself.

The call wasn't for leadership, but for himself. The voice was not one he knew; it didn't have the same caterwaul as his ex-mate's voice either. It did come from the side of the claim nearest to the Caldera -- and that alone incited Reyes' pace, so that he was bolting to where Ruenna stood waiting to see him.

The sight of the woman didn't appear to ruffle Reyes. He thought of Towhee, wondering if something had gone wrong with her recovery, and got straight to the point when the other wolf was within earshot: What is it? Is something wrong?