Hushed Willows grey hoarfrost vanished, and the rose with might [festival]

<33 !!!

Finally. He finally made it to Elysium.

The throng of wolves is a familiar sight, but he does set his eyes on them. He instead skirts along the outer rim of those gathered to celebrate the Festival of whatever traditions and rites they are keeping. This, too, means less than nothing to him; their ritual is not why he has come. Merrit knows these celebrations draw in wolves from regions the night raven cannot even dream to name. He knows their story spreads far and wide, and he hopes that the murmurings may have reached the ears of Keen.

This is why he keeps to the outskirts: because he knows his sister, and he knows that if she has come, she will not be dancing in the midst of the company, though he knows she is lovelier than every wolf here.
 
But that is not who his sister is. He knows this, and even more, he knows that she deserves to soar higher, far higher, than whatever Elysium extends to her here. Keen has a place above them, even if she does not see that yet.

And he knows she does not see this yet, and that is why he looks behind them, because if his sister has come, then this is where she will be - and it is here he catches sight of a lonely shadow separated from the group, watching on in a crooked hunch that is so very familiar, and his chest fills with a hollow ache - yet he keeps himself from plunging forward, and his heart from leaping out. The scent of the party confuses him, and he can't pick out this woman's scent from the greater throng - but he knows she is real, and he has to try; he croons to her, soft and low.

"Keen."

He takes a single step forward, and waits for her to turn. There is still the chance that she is someone else, and if she is, she will leave him. But if she is Keen, he knows she will come.