Arrow Lake for the only true Queen is the Night Queen

The reaper remained close, sharp eyes flickering between the group and the domain that would shelter them over the coming moons - as a soldier, a steel guard, it was his duty to defend, and so the beryl-hued gaze tipped to every movement, ears towered above a crown of dark silver and steps as quiet as a mouse; quieter, perhaps. He was aware of every word shared, and every move made.

Drinking in the surroundings was a necessary task; opening himself up to the life around and whatever secrets might lurk in their shadows - even after he was sure this trip was not a trap from the Diaspora wolves, he would remain alert, vigilant. To let down his shield would be foolish.

Eventually as the group wove toward their destination a dark figure joined them - who Aries knew to be Midar - and an unknown voice brushed against the fur of his ears: a woman, who spoke in hushed tones met their arrival, greeting them politely before stepping back, presumably so that this Stigmata would take her place. The Svartell eyed her silently, stood stock still in waiting.