Moonspear when i bled from the heart of the matter

Now that his hunting trail had gone cold, the sound of the creek ushered him in. While there were any number of rivulets that he could have chosen, the longest of these had its own charm about it. Running from the stonework on high and gently weaving through the forest beneath, the changing topography could not dissuade it to end a moment too short. While he had hoped to pick up another trail to follow to quell whatever craving whim Hydra proclaimed, what he found instead was a face that he had only seen briefly.

Like his sisters, Jarilo was a flickering shadow. Unseen and unheard in those recent days, Dirge was surprised to find him here and now, and realized he did not recall seeing the shadowy wolf in assorted company. It was enough to break his interest in hunting for now—Hydra would and could wait, he thought—and quietly make his approach.

”Seems like you've been keeping yourself busy these days,” and quite possibly because someone had to. The turmoil had them all at unease; he thought perhaps he would find solidarity in the lingering discomfort. ”Mind some company?”