[private] Please stay, for this fear it will not die; Daemron.

[Daemron]

At her bidding, Daemron had begrudgingly left Pyxis and the twins to go out in search of Lupine at dawn. He has spent hours scouring the ashen kingdom, cursing his nephew under his breath. Lupine, indeed. He huffed sourly. There was nothing wolfish about the young colt. Not only was his second form that of a small black kitten, but his impish disregard for authority was decidedly cat-like, too – and as such, their very natures were in complete opposition. Still, while the chestnut stallion felt no small measure of chagrin towards Lupine’s outright defiance, he did share Pyxis’ concern for the boy. His nephew obviously didn’t understand the dangers to which he could be exposed by insisting on running away like this. Considering the plague that was rampant just beyond Tephra’s borders, the wolves the colt seemed to dislike so much would be the least of his worries. Yet he hates being apart from his own family – from Pyxis, and from Brigade and Wonder. Having felt that they were somehow exposed without him, he’d left a small guard of Tephran wolves behind; a scrappy grey with distinct scarring across his muzzle, an impressionable tawny brown, and a mottled black who was quite clever despite being long in the tooth. Three with whom he had become most familiar in Red’s continued absence. His brow tightens at the thought. Now more than ever, he needed the maned wolf here – but when he stretched his consciousness to its very reaches, there hadn’t been the slightest twinge to signal her presence. Years ago, with Pyxis, she had left of her own volition. This time, however, he had sent her away. It made him uneasy. Moodily pushing aside any speculation as to what could have happened to her out there, he ploughs on. As he rounds the base of the volcano, head low to the grasses in case Lupine was hiding among them, he comes upon a different child entirely. For a moment, he doesn’t believe what his eyes tell him. He remains quite still, so near that he breathes in the familiar fragrance of dogwood blossoms and observes the willow of her hair (a prelude to his own), seeing the distinctively cracked and glowing flesh of bark that could only belong to one person – “Mother?” daemron lost to the hunt as I was to you

@[Noori]