Aithne waited with the patience of a huntress for Kneph to come to a final descision. It took him longer than expected, but he knew that there was wisdom in contemplation and he had unduly weighed all the options, nosing through each piece of evidence thoroughly until he was satisfied with the facts. In the end, it had turned out that his choice was simple; follow the strange she-wolf to her home or shiver and starve in no-man's land through the long, cold winter ahead. Even under the trees he felt a shiver ripple through him, despite the fact that no snow had yet pierced the green blanket that spread protectively above his head. He glanced upwards almost reverently, grateful for the sentinels that towered over him. His unwelcome companions growled and snarled, wanting only to see him suffer. His death would be joyous to them, a feast of souls. That decided it. He nodded to the she-wolf and she smiled in answer, her tail giving a breif wag to demonstrate her approval. Kneph rose to his four paws, unaware that he had sunk into a sitting position sometime during their one-sided conversation, and set off after the black fatale, who was already melting into the shadows as though she had never been.

Her pace was brisk, but the fairly large male had no trouble keeping up. He had, after all, spent much of his life traversing the undulating landscapes that sprawled around him. She headed into the mist with confident pawsteps, making her way through the marshes as one born to them. Kneph did not have such faith in the treacherous, watery paths that they followed, but he kept on, regardless. At one point, they crossed a pungent scent border, and the midnight male realized that he had just crossed into Iromar, although the landscape was no different. He wondered then whether a swamp could ever feel like home to him. Doubt riddled his mind full of holes as a fishmoth consumes fabric, yet still he did not falter, the suddenly reassuring scent of Aithne drawing him further into the womb of the marsh. At the pack border, his personal demons had screeched in anger and faded into the mist, no doubt receding to sulk at his choice before approaching him again with renewed venom. He enjoyed their absence, feeling as though a great weight had been removed from his shoulders. It was truly refreshing. He moved a bit faster, drawing level with his host, feeling invigorated despite his empty belly. The landscape blurred around them and he reveled in the speed of his paws and the iron of his muscles, bunching and sliding fluidly beneath his thick, winter coat.

Eventually, after many miles had slipped behind them, Aithne began to slow. She drew to a halt deep within the borders at the flank of a large mound, her breath huffing around her. Kneph thought she looked almost ethereal in the half-light of dusk but, of course, did not say so. Even if he had grasped the power of speech, he doubted the female would enjoy such sentimentality. It was a refreshing outlook, actually. Too many femmes raced around with tails high and ears on the alert, wafting their perfume for every passing warrior to inhale, hoping for a soulmate or a sperm donor to 'happen' upon them. He smirked at the thought, pushing down feelings of desire that always stirred within him as the North wind blew. If he ignored it for long enough, it too would pass. Aithne spoke them, rousing him from his thoughts. He rested his intelligent eyes upon her, waiting for her to finish. He swallowed a smile as she named him, debating whether to interrupt her with his actual title and deciding against it. He could live with Phantom for a little longer. It did suit him, after all. He lifted the veil from his gaze, allowing Aithne to glimpse the gratitude within, for his lips could not form the words to convey it to her. The den appeared homely enough, and it rested on a little island nestled between two deep, tepid pools and patially screened from site beneath a moldy, fallen log. Here he would have his privacy. He dipped his head once in aknowledgement to the femme and turned to stoop beneath the lid of the den. If she followed him, he wouldn't argue. He doubted she would, but her paws would ache as his did, and he scented a family of mice had taken up residence in his new 'home'. After they ate, who knew what else could unfold? The thought satisfied him and he grinned, although the girl wouldn't see it. Anticipation baited his breath and he paused to see what twist the night would take.