His quadrant of the mountain had become somewhat deserted in the past months. First Kiyomi had moved her den further up the mountainside, before she chose to leave Moladion altogether. Then Ailith had gone missing. And of course, the nail in the coffin had been when Daenerys had been bested in battle, and the vast majority of the mountain population had left the homes they had kept for the past five years. Malina had gone, despite knowing that Sleekwing would remain and continue to raise their children in the land of their ancestors. And so, the area of the mountain that had once bustled with the activity of three families, now housed only the quiet noises of one small trio of wolves. Since Roman's proclamation that Sleekwing was not a member of his pack, Sleekwing had kept to himself. No longer did he uphold the routine of daily border patrols, instead devoting all of his time to his two children. It was a much calmer life, and he did not mind it so much, despite the yearning in his paws to resume the duty they were born to fulfill.

Moonfeather and her raven friend, Kutcha, were playing a game of 'keep the feather,' and Sleekwing watched them fondly from afar. With the bird flitting to and fro above her head, she reminded him more than ever of his dearly departed mother. MoonGlow had founded Spirane on the belief that any wolf could find purpose in life, and that the world was made for all of them to live in, not just a select few. It had been a harsh reality when Purge had murdered her to gain the throne. And though Roman may not have succeeded in assassinating his sister, there was still a bitter taste left in Sleekwing's mouth over the matter. He'd been forced to listen in silence as the pack howled their preference for Roman to step aside and let another lead, and that wolf was Tithe.

It was Tithe's familiar voice that lilted on the breeze that afternoon, and Sleekwing's ears pricked forward at the sound. His daughter glanced back at him for a moment in a question of, 'should I come?' but then Kutcha plucked the feather from her fur and she was distracted with the game once more. Chuckling to himself, Sleekwing lifted to his paws and jogged away from the densite. Israfel was likely somewhere nearby, practicing his hunting or defensive positions for sparring. But Sleekwing did not want to trouble his children with matters of pack affairs. Things may have begun to settle in Spirane, those who had remained more comfortable under a leader they had chosen than one that had taken their home by brute force, but the heather painted warrior could only wonder how long it would last.

Approaching Tithe, he dipped his head in acknowledgement of the other male and his station. It was a foreign concept, to be lead by a wolf who had not fought for their position, but Sleekwing held more respect for Tithe in the tip of his tail than he ever had for Roman. Tithe had won his position by the voice of the people, and Sleekwing did not begrudge him that. Though he missed Daenerys and the vibrant life the mountain had had under her rule, he would give Tithe his chance to prove himself. "Hello Tithe, what can I help you with?" Comfortable in the wolf's presence, he lowered his hindquarters to the earth and his tail wrapped partially around him as he waited to hear what the newly appointed King had come to speak to him about.