Moonspear Once More Into the Fray

The borderland between the mountain and glen had fallen silent again, but for how long he could not be certain. It would have seemed this year too they would not be afforded opportunities to revel in the idyllic countryside they resided in; for all the good that had come into their world there were notches and pockets that were decidedly bad, unfortunate.

The circumstances surrounding Yama, their newest.

Primafaya and Opalia remained gone.

He thought of Arcturus and his vitriol then, and sighed.

But at least, at least, the borders were quiet. If nothing else no news was good news, and he would have preferred to take back no news at all than sully Hydra's mood. Ruining that was never high on his priorities, especially now; another lurking worry over not one but two sets of infants he had yet to lay eyes on.

These things were pushed far from his mind at the thrashing of not so distant brush—in this wilderness he had learned to be wary of such ruckus, be it bear or malicious beast, but the closeness to his claim gave him little reason to abandon a chance to survey. From a crude vantage point he could not count the tines on the antlers of the elk, but he knew a bull when he saw it, knew the strut and bellow as it fled.

More curiously, though dismaying, was the wolf churned out of the way in the process. A wolf that did not quite blend in with advantageous shadows and vibrant greenery; a wolf who was now standing on the wrong side of a situation easily turned worse than an errant ungulate. In lieu of a proper greeting, he opted to respond how he saw fit, and let a deep warning growl announce error and intent. But Dirge did not do as an Ostrega of the mountain would, and did not charge her for benefit of doubt.

How she would respond would determine the course.