Diveen shifts and Spirane follows suit. It is an unusual turn of events for both packs have been the longest secured, perhaps, by some of the most renown of families. Daenerys had been quiet and yet, I had half expected it to be her that returned to shake the mountain; as for Diveen? I am surprised, I think, that Achilles has taken his leave in the midst of his tousle with Zeus and his ilk. I suppose his leaves gives Dieloch some security for the time being and, by extension, gives Glorall the same. Am I wrong to allow a wolf out for blood beneath my rule? Some may argue so and yet, is it not better that I do so? Politics has always been a confusing thing.
Nonetheless, I keep my wits about me during such times. I keep an ear turned to the wind and an eye on the borders. Even in the depths of night, I am eager to travel the expanse of the territory, checking the breeze for intruders and carefully listening to the wind beyond. If there is a declaration of challenge or victory, I will be sure that I hear it. There is also a quiet pleasure in the loneliness that the night brings. Seldom am I truly alone; there is always something or somebody needing my attention and yet, I seldom get to elect just what those somethings or somebodies are.
Tonight though, I have a particular wolf in mind as I jog the length of the shoreline. There is a peculiar stillness to the world as I trail his scent, faint and yet new. I understand he has been transient in his passing, often here but often not. I am sure he knows that I keep a distant watch over him though I often keep that distance. It is not to say that he is difficult to approach, I am simply cautious of how I construct my relationship towards him. He is valuable and unique, yes, but equal parts dangerous. Tonight however, I have come to the conclusion that I have... neglected my role here.
His scent thickens in the air and I release a sharp, hoarse bark for him, informing him of my approach as I come upon his whereabouts. I rise upon the dunes, meeting the blackness of his eyes with the copper of my own; the moon illuminates the two of us in thin bands and yet, I notice something different about his face. It is not simply older but rather, filled with something other than cunning and consideration. I tilt my head in silent inquiry as I take a place beside him, always at a suitable distance. I wait for a moment, allowing myself to gaze out over the still water of the ocean, before I move to address him.