Moonspear It can never be that war shall preserve life, and peace destroy it.

Set 2-3 days from now. Maybe @Arcturus?

Each patrol of the lowlands brought him closer to the base of the mountain. He had not purposefully (at least consciously) done this, but as it so happened, Revui was drawn to the territory limits and stopped his marching abruptly when the mixed scents struck him. It was as if an invisible wall had been erected before him; he stood poised for another step, a paw raised, but rather than stride confidently over that line of delineation he held the pose a moment and sank back. His paw sank in to the track he had already made - and then he turned, sharply, as if to leave again before anyone could discover him. It had only been a few days since his encounter with Hydra — he was not yet ready.

The edges of the mountain had become his most diligent work.
 
The shade had ventured to the borders of their rocky claim and had set his task to marking the edges and watching for unfamiliar figures.
 
It was the aroma of such a figure that had pulled him in the direction of Revui. Atlas lowered his dark crown toward the earth and prowled quickly toward the fragrance. When he had closed much of the distance between them, the gold light of his eyes caught a figure that did not register as being familiar to the young Moonspear native. He certainly did not know of his relation to the slate coated male.
 
“Who are you?”
 
His voice was gruff and demanding. This figure was far too close to the edges of the pike. As though he felt the need to remind the other wolf of this, Atlas stepped forward and drew his head up.
 
“You are awfully close.”

A voice calls to him. He turns to look upon the face of whoever speaks, and at first he thinks it is his brother. Blood chills in his veins, and his heart stutters. The stranger is younger though - dark in complexion and with a poignant stare, but there is a youthful gawkiness to the body that Revui takes notice of. Not the refined musculature of a proven warrior. He does a double-take and makes sure to linger long enough to drink in the scent: so much like Hydra's, and that's what makes it all click. This wasn't his brother but this was, in some way, family.

The question goes unanswered while Revui looks the boy over, and when he is satisfied with his assessment he comments, Revui. Brother of Hydra. He does not know the world for uncle, nor does he fully comprehend the connection he has to this miniature Amekaze; but he cannot help lingering to stare, seeing so much of his own mother in the boy's composition. It unnerves him.

’Revui. Brother of Hydra.’
 
The registering of this familial relation did not show on the shade’s features. Instead, his golden gaze lingered on the blue eyes of the man across from him for several long seconds before being averted. The young man swung his head around as though he expected his mother to be there, behind him. When he had been younger, the shade had wondered if the blue-eyed woman was capable of being conjured simply from speaking her name.
 
After a moment, Atlas realized that she would not be there and returned his attention to the wolf with the slate hood.
 
“I am Atlas, her son,” the dark stoic remarked in a graveled voice. Questions seemed to flurry through his mind like a winter storm. The shade wondered why Revui had not remained with the wolves of Moonspear. Knowing better than to ask such a pointed statement, Atlas frowned thoughtfully and canted his head questioningly. “Are you here to see her?”

The miniature Arcturus was more eloquent in his speech than the barbaric Revui, or really anyone he had encountered. He must have learned this from Dirge - or more likely, the curt way of speaking came directly from the Queen mother. She always knew how to compose herself, unlike himself.

Are you here to see her? He asked.
No, Revui shot back a bit too sharply, too quickly. A stab of his voice through the cold.

Feeling immediately too awkward for present company, too alien on his home soil, Revui tried to think of what to do next to alleviate any suspicion. He could not. So he tried using his words, which might've been a poor choice. I have not been home in a long time. I just... Wanted to see it. The mountain. Which, in retrospect, he could do easily enough from the lowlands while avoiding these social moments.

’No.’
 
The response was quick, like a lashing of a whip. To Atlas, it seemed a confusing thing that this stranger should approach the edges of their pack, proclaim is relation to the leader of the spear, and then quickly deny any wish to see her. To the young Ostrega, none of those things seemed to add up to the same conclusion.
 
Were it not for the second remark that was made, the shade might have attempted to square himself against the unknown family member. It seemed that the blue-eyed fellow had been away from his birthplace for some time and had wished to return. For what? Atlas could not have said with any certainty. The behavior was still peculiar to him.
 
“Why did you leave?” he asked gruffly. Why leave and then return with such longing?

He did not feel it pertinent to explain himself, but he couldn't just leave - that would spoil something, he felt. Maybe word would get back to Hydra that he had come to watch the mountain without making himself known; he could not have that happen, having rebuilt some kind of connection with her, so he lingered. He thought, slowly, and finally answered: To protect them. But that wasn't right, and he knew deep down he had left the first time to do that, but not the final time, which had severed his link to the pack. I planned to return, but I lost a battle, and I was unable. He did not like to admit this either - this showed weakness, and Revui loathed weakness.

The answer that was offered by the slate coated wolf was not one that settled well in the mind or heart of the dark Moonspear youth. Atlas regarded the wolf across from him with a thoughtful and skeptical expression. The sharp gold of his gaze seemed to hold the turquoise sights of the stranger with daring resolve for one who had seen so little of the world.
 
Revui was a burly beast. There was no denying that he could cause devastation against another creature. Atlas was not swayed by this realization; his own frame was still forming into its adult shape and taking on a great deal of muscle. It would not have been long before he would likely match the size and magnitude of the aqua-eyed relative.
 
“That seems… strange,” the young shade remarked with a humorous purr. A smile lined his dark lips, ghostly and verging on sinister in its appearance. “It seems a farce that the wolves of Moonspear would require the protection of one who could not even return to his home after losing a battle.” The words were made plainly and without bias or judgement.

The boy was ignorant to a degree, to which Revui was not exactly forgiving; he scowled, unable to help himself, and reiterated in the boorish manner of his: I was unable. As if that would solidify him as a loyal and capable adult. The comment meant little, and after a pause Revui elucidated: My opponent broke my leg, which took time to recover. A long time - an entire season at least. Had that been the autumn or the start of winter? He could not remember. All that came to mind was the hunger which grew every day: for meat, but also for retribution which never came.

Hydra tasked me to protect the valley for her. So that she could reign in peace, and raise her children. As he said this, Revui gave the boy a pointed look - shrewd, the perfect balance between Amekaze's cold confidence and Charon's no-nonsense arrogance. A beat later, he drops his gaze and turns as if to leave - but keeps his attention trained on the boy in case of further questions.

All that wailsome talk of broken limbs and the time it took to recover was nothing more than the charming words of an unfamiliar shape. Atlas was not swayed by the mournful expression on the slate wolf’s features. He was not moved by the remark of family and raising pups. To the shade of the mountain, it seemed as though this wolf was nothing more than a sad shell of what could have been an unstoppable force – a waste of potential.
 
“Pity.”
 
The dark wolf’s voice seemed laced with a smugness that could not have been pinned down. When the other turned to leave, there was no attempt to stop him. Atlas had no more interest in the strange and sad figure who had come to the edge of their claim. He no longer belonged to the mountain, so he was better off leaving.

With nothing to hold him in place (as the boy did not seem eager to engage, and truthfully Revui thought it best to flee while he could), he made his strides more direct and gradually built up momentum, departing from his present company. He was within earshot to hear something fall from the boy's lips but not discern with specificity what was said; either way it mattered little, and once Revui was away from the shadow of the mountain and deep in his work, this would be forgotten.