Moonspear you win or you die

Through the undergrowth, he sussed for something in particular.

But just what that was remained to be seen and thought of, the action in itself more passive in the sense of killing time than some tasty morsel buried beneath the wilting summer foliage. And speaking of summer, it had swiftly gotten away from him in a way that left him feeling a bit sore in thoughts. He would have liked to have roam but not surprisingly, the universe had many other plans for him. Even while the days were still long and yet to dwindle to near naught, he thought he could have.

But then who else would have caused a raucous song towards day's end?

It was commonplace of him to try and rile up the children, who at that point hardly needed him to encourage such wily tunes. They needed less instruction on how to make noise and less on how to keep quiet, and even less input on how the world would shape them. There was always something more to do, something more to show and share, some little detail imparted to him through life that he would in turn impart to them.

And there was very much that he would pick and choose when it came to imparting.

Noisily, he breathed out against the damp debris and took a step forward, his muzzle dragging a haphazard line through the mix of weeds and leaves. No, nothing here of interest. It was hardly the place to gather his thoughts but it was quiet, and as of late he truly hadn't many thoughts to spare. There was little time or use in mourning a summer lost when it had been fruitful and busy, and the passing dourness of it almost being lost came and went like phases of the moon.

Much like his attention on this, more than likely in a matter of moments.

He was oblivious to Hydra closing in.