Blackfeather Woods Get the cool, get the cool shoeshine

For a moment he thought he had her, a stalker in the snow, invisible to all but Anna, ready to pounce at his sister's oblivious reality. But when he did, with the momentum he'd been building up for the past minutes, she no longer was there to his mercy. She'd stormed off to tend to the a unexpected call, the old one's, the one with the stories. 'Uncle' was what the dark prince had called him, and uncle was the only way Keelut knew to call him.

Like Astrid, Keelut jolted off of his guise and sought the place where he was being summoned to, only to find it particularly casual and indistinctive. He was there, imposing and alone, awaiting the arrival of the spiderlings in silence. Astrid was silent too, and to her the blue eyed Apaata walked up to greet her with a brotherly bite to her ear and a hug-like rub of his cold and still snow-covered fur. His attention was divided then between the expressive eyes of his sister and the unforgiving ones of Uncle. What were they, indeed, doing here?