Life had become pleasantly consistent for the boy. He had dug out a den site a short distance away from Haven’s, comfortable enough to be close to her and yet far enough away that Taliesin wouldn’t have cause to chew off his tidbits as promised. Haven had been quiet as of late, he chalked it up to her growing older as another Winter passed. He knew she struggled with the idea of being an adult, had since they moment they had imprinted upon one another and she realized the innocence of youth might be slipping way. It was Hollowpoint’s self-appointed duty to remind her that while getting older wasn’t an option growing up was.

He set out in the afternoon, the summer sun warming his back as he trekked across the rocky terrain to an open clearing near the area where most of the pack chose to den and congregate. He had quickly come to love his mountain home, and not just because it happened to contain the other half of his soul. He loved the fresh air, how the winds whipped around them and the sun always seemed to shine a little bit brighter. His long legs carry his lanky form to the center of the meadow where groupings of wildflowers bloomed with patches of brilliant colors. After letting his ice and golden eyes trail around the area he lowered his slender form to sit on the warm grasses.

He knew quite a few mothers within the pack had whelped pups over the spring and they were just now getting to the point that they could travel outside of their dens and intermingle with the rest of the pack. Over time he had spotted a few of their fluffy, wobbling forms learning to deal with the rougher terrain of their home. In time they would be running over the grounds with the ease all the mountainborne seemed to possess and the idea brought a lopsided grin to his eternally youthful features. He had taken up the mantle of Crone when he arrived for he so loved to play with the young pups, they always made him feel even younger himself and that was his purpose in coming to the meadow today.

He tips back his white-patched head, muzzle raising to the cloud dotted skies above as his high tenor voice sings out. He calls for the young pups, those born of the mountains and those who had just arrived in what he understood was a mass exodus from Diveen. He invited children who wished to play or perhaps hear a story and offered to be a distraction to parents who might just…need a break. His call fades and he looks around eagerly, hoping to soon hear the pitter-patter of small feet tromping toward him, even relishing the idea of their tiny teeth pinching his skin in play. He enjoyed the little wolves.