Moonspear for lack of a better name,

His circuit of the densite went on, and therein, he could find nothing amiss--despite his best efforts to suss it out if it were. Kukutux's scent was the biggest abnormality from the times he had come by prior (used to the presence of his aunt-mothers), and that was no cause for concern given the nature of the howls with the situation they possibly faced. Plus, he guessed his uncle had joined the others, so likely this was the best short notice could afford.

Antares was left to suppose that this was a moment when no news was good news so far, though it did nothing to keep his thoughts from venturing down the mountainside, wondering how his siblings fared, and if their father had engaged the foe yet--perhaps, if victory may be theirs already, or if this might be simple deflection. The dark yearling could only wonder, and inexperienced in that regard, his imagination went on.

But in the event that the front line was not enough, he hoped to be their next line of defense for the mothers in whatever way. He watched the area, careful over every twitch of the scenery, scrutinizing every turn. Eventually, on his long rangy walk, he did circle back towards the entrance of the den though still did not approach entirely. His nose quivered in search of the pups' scents, for he was not yet all that acquainted with any of them, and he moved to a vantage just nearby--above, a touch, and sat himself down with a quiet huff to pin a stare off beyond.

He couldn't quite make out the lull of conversation from within, but it didn't matter enough for him to try. On guard, he sent his energy elsewhere.