Moonspear fear is the hand that pulls your strings

Yes, it was strange indeed to be back here.

A cold air did little to guide him as he stuck to the middle climes of the mountain, seeking familiar ground. Not a lot had changed in the last year, at least speaking of the mountain, but he was not foolish enough to believe that not everything had changed. Moonspear had been swept up in a great wave of change when he had last been apart of their robust ranks. A schism between all of them, he thought of it. A far more messy affair than he had wanted to interest himself with and so he had stayed out, none too keen or caring whether or not it played out in anyone's favor.

Evidently, it had apparently played to the favor of the mountain, for it was still there, still proud. That in itself was a testament to the test of time and how it loved to change things; he had seen many packs come and go through the seasons in the wilderness, and yet this one had remained. Hydra had remained a constant in this churning sea with tides that cared naught for what or who they rendered. Perhaps had Nyx been there, she would have been pleased with it all, but would have found far many other things to be intriguing.

He hadn't forgotten about the family ties that held them all together. It bothered him now, beneath the canopy of trees in this last bastion they dared and tried to hold. It was a part of his own history living and breathing in his face even when he claimed no ties to it at all; a secret if nothing else, that he believed he would take onward to his grave. Perhaps it were a lie, for if his own father had been cut of this particular cloth then he would have certainly been a much different breed altogether.

Dirge took pause along a rise that offered him a fair view of the sloping, snow-covered side that bled out into the valley below. Hydra was busying herself no doubt, already keen to terrorize the flesh of herds out of his view if not spreading the word that she had lured him back after all—and why wouldn't she? She had been forthright in announcing him to begin with, to place scrutiny upon him, and he did not hesitate for a moment that it was there again. He could not let anything burden him here, lest it be teased from him, and thus it was in those moments of solitude that he did not feel reason to play a part or act in a scene. But it would come.