Swiftcurrent Creek moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars

Beyond the meadow there was a creek that had taken ice to its edges, but moved, nonetheless. The dark sphinx moved toward it tentatively; his lean frame was light, but he feared that he might break the ice away and fall into the waters. In the chilling winter weather, Trench knew that it would surely spell his defeat. Feeling the sturdiness of the structure beneath his weight, the ranger bent his neck and lapped at the cold water for several long seconds. The back of his throat was grateful for the relief and his parched mouth no longer felt like it was full of wool. From there, Trench turned his gaze toward his surroundings and drank in the scent of the nearby area.
 
There was a pack, not far from where he was, that seemed to bustle with life. Wondering if any of his family had made it to this point, Trench aimed himself in the direction of wood and followed the stream that would lead him there. The premise of thick trees and the comfort of those sturdy boughs would likely provide relief from the worst of the winter weather. He hoped that he could seek solace there for a time, at least until he had discovered where he wanted to move next. Diaspora had been almost empty when he had arrived back on the doorstep of the pack. His search for leadership had turned up nothing. That meant it was time to move on.

Her dark son had wandered—a wraith in the winter solstice, and yet she finally caught his scent away from the mountains. Unbeknownst to the dove, the boy and turned up on their old doorsteps of Arrow Lake, rather than their newest location.

Her pace quickened, heart aflutter in her chest at the realization she had come upon his scent once more, yet this time less faint. When she stole across the winter white, her jaded gaze fell upon him, and the mother released a crooning growl to note her presence, unable to hide the shine of relief from her features as she loped forward, closing the distance between them with the swiftness only an eager mother could possess when finding her offspring.

The summons caused his head to whip around, turning sharply toward her with a defensive spiking of the hackles along his back. When the cool jade of his vision latched to her pale figure, the dark shadow immediately relaxed. Ketzia appeared far thinner than he had last remembered. Along her slim frame, portions of her bones could be seen jutting from beneath her creamy cloak. Before he could react, she had jolted forward to remove the space that separated them. Trench stood, slightly quivering against the touch of the chilling winter air. The expression on his features was all but unreadable, though he did not appear displeased to have found his mother there… only slightly surprised. It was several miles from Diaspora, from what he could tell after having departed the pack’s borders.
 
“I went to Diaspora and waited,” the young boy remarked to her in a tone of voice that had aged to that of a young teen. “No one came to the borders. I waited as long as I could.”
 
The words carried a heavy weight as they were released into the air. In spite of this, Trench did not appear to be weathered by them. It was curious for him to think that the boundaries of his former home were so poorly guarded that he could wait there for hours without sighting another living creature. Had Diaspora fallen into such disrepair since he had wandered away from it? What had happened to them?