Quixote stretches leisurely across a bolder, his front paws draping absentmindedly along the rock’s smooth curve. The moon cast its silvery gaze upon him and he peers back, transfixed by the silvery stare that almost perfectly matches his sister’s bright gaze. For a moment, he let himself pretend the Goddess exists, that her plans guide the world, that there could be some reason behind all the tragedy. Had she been watching as his brethren burned to cinders under the forest canopy? Did she even care? He blinks back the wetness and the blurriness threatening to overwhelm his vision, drawing in a deep breath.

"Where did you go?" A mere whisper. The question hangs still upon the air, and Quixote lowers his head across is legs. It hurts, only being able to ask and not listen. Even if the Goddess is real, there is no way She would lower herself to answer anyone with eyes as amber as his. Her rejection tears at him, but he can’t help the small smile that curls upon his lips – he had asked something similar before, hadn’t he? The chill in the air was almost the same as that night, when he had slipped out of their den as a pup to search for the new moon. Back when Coquette still followed him everywhere (before she had found her wings, before he had grown so stagnant). “I don’t think she goes anywhere,” he mouths along with his memory of his sister’s words, “I think she just has to rest, like us.” A quaint thought, that something so big and so immortal as a Goddess would share in their mundane struggles.

A single ear flicks as there is movement in his peripheral, with a sigh he raises his head, his tail tapping gently against his perch as his white-and-ochre sister finally shows her face. He rocks back and up into a stretch before deftly scampering down the side of his impromptu throne. He picks up a ground-eating trot, his attention focused more on the ground than toward his sister – after all, he had the gist of where she was and he still wasn’t quite comfortable with this jutting, rocky terrain. "It’s about time you showed up!" He jokes, glancing up from his path to shoot a grin to his sister. "I — wait, you’re not Coquette." He blinks in surprise at his new accidental companion. Now that he could see her better, it became apparent that her coat was dusted with darker interspersed hairs. And her eyes were the wrong color, but really how was he supposed to see that from any respectable distance away? "Sorry, I thought – well, you look a lot like my sister from a distance. In the dark. I’m Quixote, would you like some company while I wait?"