Moonspear Time will explain

He was keen to settle, certainly—Njord had seemed a promising comrade, and thus, Argent was trying to make good of his promise to be of use. He rounded the borders—marking every so often to ensure a stronger claim with more numbers, and as the hours past, the routine became soothing rather than out of place.

As days would go by and he would walk the borders yet again, the surrounding nature started to become familiar, and the routine more set—and as such, more comfort found. Every so often his eyes would trace to the directions of the Sunspire and the valleys near, knowing he should seek Mahler—and yet there was a desire to believe the man was alive and well, and Argent feared that if he did try to find the man, he would come to find out otherwise—after all, Mahler had been ill and ragged the last time he had seen him.

Argent was simply not ready for that yet.

A howl was exactly something he needed—the caller coaxing a wolf of leader status to them, but it would be the tall silver basilisk that would come upon her. His silver eyes were cold as they swept over her—softening only when his gaze met hers as he began to close the distance between them, uttering a low croon in greeting. “Welcome,” he offered, the crunch of snow from his paws reiterating the crispness of the cool air. “You’re on Moonspear’s borders. Can I help you with something?”