Firefly Glen Away From The Tundran Vale

When much of his recent ranging had turned up little of real interest, he had returned to the Glen for a short rest--but even then, Antares was loathe to stay still for long. Restlessness had still crept up on him fast. There was plenty he could stick his nose into around here, and since he felt like most of his tenure as newly minted second-in-command so far had been spent on the go, he had plenty to keep up on. The dark Ostrega was prowling for sign of Bronco at first, though the howl that beckoned his attention elsewhere felt like a worthy distraction.

He veered his route and found course, able to surface from the darkness of their woods to find the stranger that had found them. Or so it appeared. Antares tipped up his ears and approached, bold, though with a long walk that still seemed casual. You called, he said as he started to slow, obvious that he answered on behalf of this glen. The winds made no indication of this traveler's intentions here, so he would find out. Even his scent was all foreign to him. This man was not a Teekon relative of theirs, but, certainly, a presence of his own worth an interested eye.