I have taken to the borders often now, inspecting them rigorously and watching out across Moladion's expansive interior. I watch into Diveen at times, curious as to their position - it is quiet now, and yet, it continues to change in the breeze, its scent fluctuating between those both familiar and unfamiliar. I suppose they might have expected me to visit the ravines by now, this new leader - leaders, whichever - and yet, I see not purpose in doing so. I see no others and I hear so few. What purpose would an alliance serve? They are close and yet, they are no risk. I will wait and I shall watch their development and then, perhaps, I will decide. After all, there are so few to take council from. Mother is knowledgeable and yet, I am aware that her own scent has lingered on the outskirts of Diveen. I am weary of her n a sense, unsure as to where her true alliances lie. She is no liar, and yet, she has not come to me despite the old male's death. Just how long does she intend to wait?

It is by the borders of Diveen that I linger this day, though it is a passive loitering at that. I bathe in the waters that run by our borders, enjoying the last remaining warmth from summer - I watch into the pack lands as I do so, driven by curiosity. Eventually, however, no new information can be discerned and so, I begin to make my move back towards my den, my undersides slick with water. I can feel the oncoming bite of winter in the ocean breeze, a reminder that we will be required to begin preparations once more. At least, I suppose, I do not predict we will see any more children come the spring. It will ensure we do not need to hunt so greatly and the strain will be lesser; at least, for the time being. One must always be weary when the tide carries change.

It is a surprise, then, to find a change standing by the mouth of my den. I recognize him, of course, for he had been there during my arrival within Glorall and yet, he had taken on a passive role within the hierarchy. He is the brother to the pack's Witch and yet, he seemingly lacked the insatiable ambition his brother had. And so, it is much to my surprise that he is here - and so nervous in appearance, at that. I quicken my pace for some moments to arrive promptly, moving in a short arc so that I might approach him from a more front-on position. Perhaps my curiosity is too obvious with such a movement, for I often haven't any issue with making those around me wait.

He appears nervous and I can practically smell it on him; still, I remain as passive as ever, flexing my toes in the soil beneath me as I watch his eyes closely. They are, after all, the quickest way to understand the intentions of those around us all. I do not speak for now, allowing him the time to himself to gather whatever thoughts may be lost to him. If I speak now, I have no doubt it would simply... startle him, and we haven't the time to waste on tripping over words. Let him breathe and then I shall begin to uncover why it is he lingers over my resting place.