Spring had unveiled many interesting developments in Sleekwing's life. He had grown close with Ailith, a bond that had been established upon her return to Spirane over the winter and bloomed after his presence at the birth of her children. Every few days he would make a point of stopping by her den on the way to his own to greet her, Kirsi, and Cadwan. He adored the children, but he did not want them to come to the wrong conclusions about him. While he was happy to be a masculine figure in their lives, he torment that thinking he was a father to them could cause in their adolescent years was something he did not want to happen. So he made sure to leave days between his visits, but his presence was still a reliable one in their lives. And then there was Natu, who had visited her old home on multiple occasions and expressed her sorrows over everything that had happened. It was amazing to have found out that Sven was alive, though, and another of her sons had since come to the mountain to live. Soon he was meant to travel to Taviora for a day, to test Natu's skills in physical defense for the multi-faceted position she was working towards in their ranks. Some part of him hoped that what she had touched upon in their meeting at the creek would come to be true - that after everything, she would return home. But she had to make the choice that was best for her in the long run, and he was glad she was taking the time to truly think things over; there was no rush or pressure, as there had been when she'd left Spirane in the first place.

As was quite normal for the Castellan of the mountain when he had many things on his mind, he took to running the borders. Perhaps there were those that would hear his age and think him past his prime, but Sleekwing had never felt better. His muscles warmed as his body dashed over the ground, a long striding lope carrying him along the periphery of the realm. He'd begun along the border that was shared with Taviora, keeping a watchful eye for Natu or perhaps young Ankh, either of which he would have gladly paused his duties for to chat with. But the edge of the forest was quiet, and so he moved along briskly. When he reached the edges of the territory that were bordered only by freelands, his lope became a slower, steadier gate. His eyes, nose, and ears set to work, keen on any differences along the fringes of the pack lands. Things seemed normal, calm as they had been for many months now. But these patrols were important, for a single wolf could slip within the pack lands without being seen. Sleekwing was quick to notice any foreign scent though, and it was a fresh but not unfamiliar trail that caught his interest that day.

He slowed to a walk, nostrils flaring and his nose twitching as he buried it into the paw print so lightly left in the soil. He had come into the world side by side with that scent; it was one he would never forget. Orca was home. Lifting his dome he glanced about, wondering how recently she'd passed through. The last time she'd returned there had been a homecoming party, a gathering of nearly every child raised by MoonGlow and Alcide - only Ceal had missed out. The likelihood of something like that ever happening again in his lifetime was meager at best. Swallowbane had disappeared again, and so it would be a reunion of only two of the three first children of the mountain. Still, his heart thrummed with joy as he set off, galloping across the terrain as he followed her perfume up into the mountains.

When her trail finally seemed to take on some direction, Sleekwing knew exactly where she was headed. As he came closer to the small clearing where the crypt laid, he slowed to a walk, not wishing to rush up on his sister. Finally he broached the treeline, catching sight of her ebony and ivory pelt sitting before the pile of rocks. He stepped forward, lowering his nose to touch the largest of the stones, an immense rose quartz stone placed at their heads by their eldest son, their firstborn. His eyes slid shut as he silently greeted them, before he lifted his muzzle and moved to his sister's side. Dark grey hindquarters lowered to the ground next to her, the painted heather of his side pressing against the black of hers. His eyes, an exact opposite to hers - dark blue haloed in lavender - pulled away from the tomb to look upon the face of his sister. A sad smile painted across his features, feeling that words were not necessary in these moments, and after a moment he looked back to the final resting place of The First Shamaness and Her Northern Star.