I suppose it has been a while since Moladion's wind has carried the voice of challenge and yet, that which had rung out over Iromar had been a glorious thing, no? It stirs the innards of every alpha, I'm sure. I must admit that such a tone had caused my fur to prickle in anticipation, for a call of my own that had never come. Yet, it is not the challenge that mattered but rather the victory. And just like that... Aranck was gone, I suppose, and in his wake, I wonder what was left.

There is one thing, however, that stands out to me and that is Underidge's apparent...hesitation? One might call it that. In any case, I am surprised that Aranck was toppled before either he or I were able to tend to such matters. Part of me is glad for surely my murder of him would have been deemed evil for it was not in the name of some queen or at the beck and call of some pact. No, it was a personal thing, he and I, but Underidge? I never suspected he might not make it there first. I wonder to myself what it might have been that stopped him as I take rest at my den. There is a certain assurance, you see, that he will always find me here.

Like a ghost, he moves from the bushes and the shadows and yet, he sways and rocks like a tree caught in a storm. I watch him with intrigue, my ears erect and eyes wide with curiosity as he shambles towards me. It is not with his usual grace and subtlety that he comes but rather, an erraticness, a danger to him that is not his usual flavor. I cannot help but rise to my paws immediately as he stirs towards me, his voice a harsh and savage thing as it rips into the air between us.

For a moment, I am inclined to simply watch, my head falling into a tilt of curiosity and uncertainty as he paces and watches. And then, I swoop in suddenly with practiced ease, offering my shoulder once more just as I had offered it to Ehiyeh and Samhain. There is a darkness in my face though, one I feel as it creeps into the corners of my lips. "Who, Underidge, who?" Who is dead now? No wolf of Glorall, at least no wolf we come to know by name but Underidgeg has his secrets, he always has, and now I wish to pry so gently into them, into him. "Gone, perhaps, but there are always more to find, no?" It is not a kind thing to say, maybe, and yet I am sure it will...get through to him. Underidge is about possession, after all, and I have little doubt that he speaks of something he has lost rather than something that has simply wandered away. Who is gone? Who was he keeping so close under lock and key?

I step back slightly then, meeting his eyes levelly with a composure starkly separate to his own; he is a wild man in those moments and I, the face of poise. "I am here for you, Underidge. What has happened? Let us forget of Iromar for now - our kill was not stolen. The Shade knew which name to send others after and so, he took Aranck himself to save you such precious time."