It has perhaps become typical, to find Sleekwing moving through the paces of checking Spirane’s periphery for dangers and infringements upon the land. While Daenerys’ scent was that which lay most boldly along the edges of the pack, her brother’s scent was oft enough found a mere ten feet within her stark boundary line. The Castellan of the mountain was responsible for the safety of the pack, and his daily routine had begun to where a track in the spring grass. The pack remained secure, and Sleekwing kept up his fitness in lieu of sparring with other wolves. A sense of duty kept him from adopting a cantankerous nature in his state of loneliness as well. Spirane lacked a well manned Armament, but a few of the younger lads had taken an interest in the future of a warrior, and Sleekwing looked forward to a time when he could begin their training. Inwardly he sometimes mused over the idea that perhaps his son might come to the mountain to learn from him, as he had learned from Alcide.

There was also the potential of aiding in the training of their allied packs’ future warriors. Sleekwing had gladly agreed to such a proposal when Daenerys had first brought it up to him, stating that if their allies were well trained that if Spirane were to somehow fall into peril they would be well defended. It was a truth, and besides that the heather painted warrior was glad to offer his skills to help others realize their potential.

He was moving along the northeastern fringe of the pack lands, his stride lengthy and polished, when a howl further to the north echoed across the range. His step never faltered, he simply continued along his way, carrying out the remainder of his duty swiftly. As he came along the area where the mountain and forest territories’ borders ran side by side, he averted his path, turning away from the worn trek in the grasses. Now he loped along the fringe, that which was heavily scented with both the Queen of the Mountain’s perfume and Chief of the Forest’s cologne. He was not far from where the girl’s voice had raised to the heaven, but he still answered the call. His own howl was short and booming, responding to the herald simply to inform her and the rest of the mountain that he was coming. But he never missed a beat in his stride.

Only one voice had called out, but he was greeted with two forms when his gait slowed to a jog upon his approach. On quick surveillance, Sleekwing noted that both at least matched him in size and weight, though there was the slightest hint of youthful lankiness that adolescents nearing maturity exhibited. The ashen male regressed to a walk, his stride still long and fluid as he came before the pair, his demeanor friendly and welcoming. “Greetings, neighbors,” he said, his tail wagging languorously behind him. His granite ears tilted forward, eyes moving between the duo. The young shewolf seemed eager and confident in her presence, while the lad seemed a little unsure of himself. “What brings you two to Spirane’s threshold this morning?” As he spoke, I shifted his weight and lowered his hindquarters to the ground, leaving ample space within the pack lands so that if they so desired they might join him.