Ouroboros Spine itluatsaik ⨶

Well, well, well! Father would certainly want to hear about this.

Aventus lingered somewhere in the back. It was not fitting behaviour for Arctos Melonii, an outgoing and friendly storyweaver, but he hoped the others would chock it up to newcomer nerves. After all, this was a gathering of pack. He presumed they were tightly knit in the way Ursus was, bound together by blood and the will of the bear as they were. This Moonglow likely had cords of its own to tie its members together, and he was still very much on the outside.

The young man they brought forth was larger and rougher than Aventus remembered, but that stonehewn coat with the pale pricks of light across the face were unmistakable. How had Tuur come to be among these wolves? Aventus had long written the boy off for useless, perhaps even more useless than Ashlar. His departure from Ursus was as insignificant to the Bruin-jaw as a fly on a pile of shit, and yet, here he was. Alive.

Being marked for bad behaviour, it seemed. Aventus watched silently and gathered all he could about the marking of Tuur and the pack's culture surrounding it, hoping that his commonplace colours would allow him to blend in and avoid recognition.