Stone Circle devour to survive, so it's always been

He was met with the dark form of the Nornir—Tauris, one who he only knew by name. In truth, the Kvarsheim wolves tended to keep to themselves mostly, and he was less knowledgeable of its members compared to Riverclan.

Or, maybe he was just extremely familiar with one certain member of Riverclan…

He’s greeted with good humor—but he couldn’t help but lift his paw and scrub at his face, already knowing that Mae had likely made her presence known. So. Very. Well. Known.

“She has a penchant for picking up every word and action you don’t want her to,” he acknowledged, a wane smile offered as he lowered his paw. His eyes sparked with faint humor—his gaze tracing over the pretty she-wolf before eliciting a gentle sigh. “I’m so sorry about that.”

Thanks, uncle Arric.

He was about to continue when the rather weary form of Gunnar comes to view. He shifts his weight then, about to greet the man when he notes a flash of irritation in the older man’s gaze, and falls silent for a moment, considering this.

“I’m here to collect my little troublemaker and the newborn.” He paused, as if he could lighten the darkened mood of the elder Fadir. “The Creek is too quiet without her. Thank you, for accommodating us so quickly… but we have a mother who was about to wean, but she’s still producing milk.” Arric, he assumed, had acted on base instinct.