Nocturne Summit the spine can't decide between the earth and the sky

He’d traveled in his younger days but he explored for days at a time, with intentions of returning to the woods. This time, he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. He does not wear the name as a banner, nor hold rank in their hierarchy. It is not until he takes up residence elsewhere that he’ll have something else to offer. His nose does not press against hers as she does his shoulder, but he can gather enough. Home, family, children—enough to cause a rise of his brow and look her over—but ultimately taking a step back as she moves past him. His vibrant gaze watches her, picking up no signs of actual motherhood, but understanding the purpose anyway.
 
The gesture causes his brow to remain, curious, and then taking a step to fill the space next to her. His expression moves and he looks down the summit, and the decline they have below them, but sturdy legs have prepared and maintained his center of gravity. The company is nice, however brief it may ultimately be, but he follows along curiously. She does not seem to mind to lead him close to her home, or at least in the general direction—he already knows where it is, in theory—but finding one landmark in the unknown helps ground his sense of direction.