Stone Circle not all who wander are lost

In the dead of night he had awoken to the curt call of Ira, her voice echoing from the Easthollow border.

Ah—a newcomer then.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes with a disgruntled huff, The Patriarch turned to find Valette asleep, a halo of moonlight surrounding her frame much like a crown. He stared at her longingly, not having to heart to wake her for something so trival when she was so deep into her pregnancy. He only bid her a sweet touch of his nose to her temple before silently slipping out from the den.

The lack of sleep was evident under his eyes as the thundering man made his way down to the two, his form hulking and fur reflecting what little light was cast upon the land. He stared at his daughter and the girl, his eyes scrutinizing the red one with a raised brow before he cleared his throat to speak, attempting the dislodge the grogginess it held. "What goes, Ira?"