Fox's Glade some tides don't turn, some things never come back

And so they began.

Each step set in stone the current purpose of their journey—he could feel the guilt and worry of leaving Arric and Arlette alone at the helm of their home ebb away with the knowledge that once they gained more information of the dangers that lurked so close to their home, the better they could prepare.

If they were lucky—Akashingo would have already eradicated the problem group and all of this was for nought—but it would seem a Mayfair was rarely lucky.

A sideways glance was given to the pale woman—their expanding silence not one that held discomfort. He could have made small talk—discussed with her Kvarsheim—of her home she had traveled from. He could have laid out for her his ideals for Rising Sun Valley—to forge the packs within in a careful alliance that would see the safety for generations of family for years to come.

But the silence was forgiving, and instead he found a moments peace in their steady stride.

Their travel would be quick to cut across the eastern most side of the valley—from there, they would tread down to the desert. “Morning camp it is,” he agreed—his pace quickening, his gaze sharp upon her before repressing a devil-may-care smirk from his muzzle.

Starlight on her features would be an invigorating sight, he was certain.

Once more began the tentative re-forging of a once crumbled alliance.