Mount Apikuni silence is the language of gods

It had been his responsibility to watch over the new family, and yet, they'd escaped. In the night, perhaps, or maybe at some other point in time; he wasn't sure, in all honestly, he only knew that they had all departed from the woods. Burke, Malice, their children—gone, almost as if they'd never been there at all. Not only was he a guardian of the borders, but he'd been told specifically that he'd needed to watch over the family. Their departure effected the entire pack, he knew, but he felt as if he'd been hit especially hard after realizing they'd gone away. Again, he'd failed in his mission, disappointing perhaps more than he'd assumed. The Inuit did not give up, though. Rather, he'd set out after them, wishing to track the family down and drag them back, even if it were to cost him his life in the end.

Kove, it seemed, was the unlucky sort, though. The scent trail eventually ended, leaving him to proceed blindly, but even still he did not turn back. Over the mountains he'd gone after having crossed the waterway, searching for any signs that might indicate that the family had passed through there—but never had he found even a trace of them. He'd made his way over the flatter terrains after having scaled the rough outcroppings of the mountains, stopping to rest and eat whenever he could. It was nearly every five minutes that he wondered if he was even heading in the correct direction, as he'd never caught wind of any other wolves. The family had simply vanished, taking with them his worth, and leaving him as a failure to the Brotherhood.

Ready to turn around and head back home, his pace had eased into a steady trot, seeking out a meal for the road. The scent that he'd discovered, though, was not what he'd been expecting to find—the dusty, dirty stench of a coyote, followed by a sickly, milky scent that he'd often related to children. With the illness having been too overpowering, he'd assumed it to be a coyote and its child out for a bite to eat, and so he'd continued onward downwind of the pair. Perhaps if he were to return with some food, his punishment would not be so severe, and so the man stalked towards the lesser canines. As he'd readied himself to spring forward, his attention was drawn to the smaller of the figures, and that was when all of the pieces seemed to fall into place. The creature was too large to belong to a coyote, which meant that it had been taken away from, perhaps, a far away place in order to become a meal. He'd been reminded of his own children, then, of a time back when they were so small that they'd been incapable of fending for themselves. It was those thoughts that had caused him to spring into action, pale body surging forward as he'd thrown himself towards the 'yote, jaws wide.

The flesh of his prey was quickly torn through by his incisors, every ounce of anger he'd felt being redirected from its true source and focused on the kidnapper. His intentions were no longer to eat it, as was shown by the excess force used to tear at it until it could breathe no longer. The unnamed specimen was deserving of the fate that it'd met, Kove believed, and so he'd spat from his mouth any remainders of the animal's flesh. Thereafter, his attention was turned to the child, tongue darting out to lick over his muzzle before he'd approached her. The first thing he did, of course, was nudge the whelp, wondering if she was injured, as well as if he might be able to get her to uncoil. About her, he knew nothing, but he did know that he could not just leave her there to waste away into nothingness.