Spring is predictable, it seems. The flowers bloom and the land runs amok with the sound of challenge. I suppose I ought to not be surprised - it is a familiar cry, after all, her voice as recognizable as any other with such a history. Nonetheless, I wonder how bated the breath of the land is. For now, I find that my curiosity is elsewhere.

Summer will be upon us soon and so, soon I must also call for Underidge. I had hoped that Arcturus would have returned fully, sure that he would like to see the force of nature firsthand and yet, I find our borders absent of him for the time being. I know well that he is out gathering information and yet, I cannot help but desire his company. The same can be said of my younger sibling, Eve, or even Keturah. I must keep myself amused by other means, it seems, though I know Abel's time will come soon enough. Summer brings with it storms and storm, with them, fire.

It is just as curious to hear a new voice in Taviora; surely, I think, the voice of the wolf Solaris had spoken of some time ago. I find myself curious, almost curious enough to approach and yet, I shan't flatter this newcomer with such an action. Let him do as he pleases, I think. If he comes to me, so be it but if not, it will not be unusual. There is a... hesitancy, I feel, from those of my blood towards me. It is surely the same reason Diveen sits on my borders and yet never utters a word towards the shoreline.

Today, however, I pay little heed to these things. Instead, I have decided to shift my own position to a more central location - my den, at least. Within such an era, I would prefer to be more... accessible, I suppose, or rather I would prefer my borders to be more accessible to me. Besides, winter had brought down several trees within the internal region of the pack. They had been neatly toppled, already intermingled with shifted dirt and grass. It is not so good, I think, to dwell within the ground. I belong above it where my eyes can seek and my ears can find.

And so, the sun beats upon my back as I tug at the roots and stones that dwell beneath the fallen trees. I relentlessly clean them out, a pile forming some distance away as I dig into the loam, softening it as I do so; it will take time to line the den with fur and feather, an annoyance but a refreshing change. It is time, I think, to purge my surroundings of her scent entirely. Rather, I will place the blue feather Nari had found rather than the tattered old pelts Achlys had left. Sentimental, perhaps. How strange.