Hushed Willows in the hollow heartland

Since his sister's fall, he had only withdrawn more. Once the initial mourning of this had passed, he learned to work his days away better bit by bit. At least she lived.. albeit barely, and seeing his mother despair for her as well only came as salt to his wound -- but with time, he eventually learned to turn it into motivation when he could wallow no more.

He wanted to balk at the sheer amount of misfortune the little Ostrega family seemed to find so consistently, and yet all he found he could do was stare stone-faced back at it, blank and hollowed out by all his sorrow. So, since he could do nothing else, he worked. Hunting, tracking, and occasionally a silent sentinel posted nearby his sister's resting place, he was doing well to keep out of the way of things. He felt like time alone, at least not immersing himself in the pack socializing all that much, was all he could handle.. and besides, he wanted little to do with Amara's puppies (a matter he'd not been keen on since the start, and much less so since Larkspur's injuries) anyway and everyone else seemed to have their own doings. He simply did not want to participate.

Just like right now, loitering on a reluctant path leading him towards the Crook, he was around -- always quietly putting his extra catches in with the pack's stocks, and watching over the woods in his own little way.. but never was he out to make a noteworthy presence for himself. Not right now. How could he?

Silas exhaled a tired huff of a sigh, and plodded forward stride by stride.