Despite the lack of actual sweat upon a wolf’s body, it was easy to tell when one had pushed himself to perhaps the brink of overexertion. While it was true that his heaving sides could be evidence enough, his fur was also jostled to a state of untidiness. Not to mention how his body exerted a certain scent, an odor that was a peculiar variation of his usual cologne. As he slowed, he wrinkled his nose, the surface cold and wet as he stooped to scratch the inside of his foreleg. Lifting his head, he continued forth in the shadows that dusk cast.

It was strange that perhaps, for once, his goal had been met. His mind was clear of all thoughts concerning family of any variety. He moved along the borders easily, and his breaths gradually began to slow. Naturally, that was when he was suddenly struck by the unannounced arrival of Malina. His heart skipped a beat, jumping into his throat as she swiftly came loping towards him. It stopped him dead in his tracks, and the walls he had built over the last hour came tumbling down in his elation at seeing her.

He could hardly help the smirk that took over his face when he recovered from the initial shock of her presence. Her words only caused the smirk to blossom into a smile, and he moved forward. “Something like that. Join me?” he said, motioning for her to do just that. Standing still brought on the awkwardness of how close or far to be from one another, or whether to sit or stand or lay down. Walking together was simple, and maybe a bit of simplicity was what the two of them needed. Or at least what he needed from her.

He had been there, the day the whelps had come into the world; a fleeting glance of the life that in some other dimension could have been his. He pushed the memories and thoughts back, repressing the angst at least for the moment. Sleekwing was a more troubled wolf than he would have liked to admit, but what he did know was that he did not desire further complication. And that was what drove him to steer clear of the elephant in the room, gearing the conversation in another direction. “I was glad to hear of Isola’s victory. Sometimes I think that Purge needs it beaten into her that she will never wear leadership well.” He grinned, glancing over to Malina and wondering how often, if ever, she returned to Diveen. It seemed her life was rooted in Glorall now, and the seaside scent was strong on her pelt. But it was Diveen where they had met, where assassins slumbered quietly behind closed doors, some of them never revealing what they were truly capable of. Perhaps it was there that he needed to go, to seek out wolves to aid him in his quest for retribution.