Ghost Lion Crag darling remember, when you come to me

At first, Dragomir went to the glen, but it didn't take long before he realized it was the first place Moonspear's wolves would look for him. If they looked for him at all—he felt it was unlikely, but steered his course away from the glen all the same. They hadn't even sent a search party out for Arcturus, and he was infinitely more important to the pack than Dragomir was. If there had been a search effort made, Dragomir hadn't been invited to be part of it or informed of it, and he was certain he would be given his good standing.

Then again, the past twenty-four hours had made it painfully clear that good standing with the pack was worth as much as dirt. In the end, even blood mattered little for all they claimed to care about family above all else—all assembled had turned away from Arcturus just the way Arcturus turned away from them. It all felt too much like the cold manner of Aurëwen casting her children aside. It reminded him of how Drageda would've attacked Vercingetorix as a traitor if he returned, despite being their family. It affected his good opinion of all of them and made him sick to his stomach. He needed a few days away from it all.

The next day found him roaming high in the mountains, higher even than most of Moonspear. Dejected and filmy-eyed, the yearling could've walked right by Arcturus without even seeing him if not for the man's exclamation. It made his ears twist forward and he lifted his head slowly to find the former Beta on a perch overlooking his former pack. Dragomir could think of nothing to say; instead, he fixed Arcturus with a distraught look that was edged in ice and whined quietly, as though in spite of his hurt and confusion, he blamed the Beta's actions for upturning his life, too, even though that was pretty unfair.