A strange call rings across the mountains. It is not strange in that the voice is foreign, but in that it calls with the authority which had for not even the length of a season now belonged to Purge. It was still a concept to which Sleekwing had not entirely adjusted, but he had become at least so accustomed to it that when Snowshoe’s commanding call rang out, he was confused. He had been stalking a small herd of deer along the northern border of the pack lands. The group had been drifting back and forth over the boundary between Spirane and Taviora, and so he had remained quite far in their wake, not wishing to infringe upon their northerly neighbors food source. With the death of the mountain’s former leaders many of Spirane’s alliances had fallen through, and Purge had yet to reestablish them. But when the call echoed across the mountains, the deer scattered and disappeared into Taviora’s forests. Sleekwing halted, watching them bound away and feeling the rumble of hunger in his stomach.

Turning away, he lengthened his gait into an easy lope. He covered the distance in due time, without tiring himself out. There stood Snowshoe, with one of her children close at hand. And the one who had shadowed Purge bristled off to the side, spitting threats at her. With the ferocity it displayed, one might think it had lived its whole life under Purge’s rule to show such utter and complete distaste at the change in scheme. She was no more part of the mountain than the demons of Iromar were. So it was understandable that Sleekwing watched her for a moment with a look of confusion on his façade.

Shaking his head, he turned away from it and looked instead to Snowshoe. No marks of battle marred her coat. His confusion was unwavering. Purge did not seem the type of wolf to have done as much damage as she had on her way to the top to simply abandon it all. Certainly she had not yet garnered his respect, but he had avowed himself to remain a wolf of the mountain under her new regime. The man was a son of alphas, born and bred; the codes of honor and duty ran thick in his blood. So why did Snowshoe stand before him now without so much as a hair out of place? It was enough for him to question. “Snowshoe, what is the meaning of this?” It was a simple question, meaning her no disrespect. He was just expectant of an account of her rise to claim the throne. If Purge were to step away from Spirane by some act of the gods, there was only one wolf that deserved to so easily step into her place - and that was his sister.