Hideaway Strath Where ma fuxkin’ kids at??

Feel free to skip Arashi from here on out unless he is either addressed or so chooses to add his input.

The task at hand had taken longer than anticipated. Arashi was sure to place careful eyes upon every inch of the surrounding region.

Close to what would soon be their new borders, a howl rang. 

Fury? He questioned silently. No.. that doesn't sound like her.

Confirmation. That was not Fury. 

So then, who the hell was it?

Pearls clenched tightly, the hound's feet kicked into high gear, legs stretching into longer strides than he usually took. There was a new thrum beating hard in his chest. It was of concern, worry, and the rage that would push him to put a heavy dent in any who may have come to harm the white woman. He had been away for too long. Although she was a skilled fighter, being so pregnant had left her with a disadvantage. Like it or not, she was defenseless.

With the newfound speed, Arashi arrived on site rather quickly. 

There were three present: Fury, the who beckoned, and a woman.

By the looks of things, the three knew each other, which made him even less at ease.

Trotting closer, the man took a stand along Fury's flank. Head tall, shoulders tensed; he stared, keeping silent despite the growl that itched to release. 

There was not one ounce of this that pleased him, but the conclusion of this encounter would be solely set on Fury's shoulders. If there was to be a fight by the Warchief's command, then so there would be.