Deepwood Weald All hail the Night Mother!

For the most part, he's gotten over his reservations about joining Midar and his family. He hadn't wanted to come here, to abandon Rusalka the same way he'd abandoned Easthollow — but in the end, he could not have made a different decision. Between losing Midar and uprooting himself entirely again... well, it's obvious which he'd prefer. He's more or less accepted it by now — but he still needs some time to sulk occasionally. He'd liked the beach.
Actually, that's what he's doing when he hears the call. His ears perk at the sound, attention immediately drawn away from his resentful thoughts, and he rises to answer without hesitation. He can't help feeling a spark of anxiety at the thought of gathering with Midar's family; what if they don't like him? What if he doesn't like them? What if Midar has a hot cousin? They're all equally horrifying possibilities, and he finds himself undeniably anxious as he comes upon the dark woman. He hides it well, though, greeting her with a chuff and a dip of his head and settling a small distance away from her. He can't help but hope Midar arrives quickly; suddenly he wishes he hadn't been avoiding him.