The pink of his scars had begun to disappear into a slick white, offset by the fine undercoat that had begun to sprout like spring saplings. He no longer walked so awkwardly and no longer had to deal with the hideous clumps of scabs that clung to his neck and side. He, too, had returned to a more substantial weight, his pride once more instilled into his every step. For what it was worth, he was back entirely though perhaps not in the most beautiful of states. He was simply glad, if he had to think about it, that his fur had been naturally inclined to grow thick enough to conceal the ever growing collection of scars that littered his body. Before he had time to react, he had apparently become battle worn, slowing knocking back challengers that came not only for his throne but for his respect or their own need to practice. Such was his life and, he could not lie, it felt good to remove his anger in such a sudden, explosive way. It no longer festered. Now, he had time to spend entirely with his pack and family, collecting crabs along the shore with his daughter at his back.

It was only when a familiar howl - however different its underlying intention - ran the skyline of Glorall that he turned sheepishly to his daughter, Cersei, flashing her an apologetic smile before racing to do his business. Of course, she understood such things and though she desired to go with him, she knew it was not the time for it. Though he might have been recovered, he still desperately sought to rebuild his name as a leader - with her there, he might have seemed weaker.

Thankfully, it did not take him long to traverse the distance between them, though he felt the summer heat in his very lungs as he came over the rise to meet the pair. Leviathan was instantly noted and recognized, his head dipping in a silent greeting as he moved to stand along side her. It took him a moment, however, to recognize the other woman, his eyes narrowed in suspicion before the pieces fell into place. It had been a long time since he had seen her, after all. It did little, of course, considering it had been such a time. Where had she been? She had done little to tell he, or anybody, of her leaving. He had held hope for her all that time ago and yet, now she here reeking of the loner lands and just as out-of-world as ever. Still, he grinned and nodded stoutly for her too before speaking, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"Salem. It is good to see you are well."

Well, and not dripping with the stench of an usurper or some foreign pack it seemed. That was good news, too, though he was admittedly unsure as to why she had come. He might have been happy to welcome her back into the fold but... what part of her had ever seemed like she wanted to be in it? He had wanted to fix that. He had hoped to be able to, truly. Perhaps he'd have another chance? Who knew - he instinctively looked towards Leviathan as if she would have some form of answer, but when he realized that was unlikely, he changed the look to one of inquisition rather than confusion. He glanced between the two, feeling oddly as if he had walked into something he ought to not have despite having been called. What a baffling feeling.

"I was called? I don't suppose you think we should be worrying over Salem's return, do you? Though, perhaps some warning next time might be nice. Some of our members are less forgiving."