The world around them seemed to be in a sense of tumult and chaos, though the songs of the mountains had fallen quiet and hushes. Through rounds about the borders of the pack as well as ventured into the freelands, Baird had picked up much of the news that lingered on the winds. The contrasts between what was within and without concerned him greatly. Most packs, it seemed had changed regimes. Some for the better and some for the concerning. Their voices growing stronger and varied, though at times weaker and sickly. On the cliffs of the mountains he watched the faces of Moladion change, and when he looked within the realm of Spirane, he found the tones once rich had grown mute.

It had been no secret the Queen had been injured during a hunt and had hidden herself in the protective faces of the mountains. The Castilian had redoubled his patrols around the land. He could not directly help his queen, but he could make sure nothing else came in to harm her. Still the absence of the Queen and the Heir Intended did not go unnoticed and there was very little surprise when the call and the change sounded. His heart hurt for the pain he knew the family was in and it saddened him to know such a thing was coming to be. He recalled the loss of his father, and the effect it had on his mother and his ears drooped. Daenerys was not lost, but he had a fear that could not be pushed away. Still, the mountains were in the hands of her blood, and Kalseru had taken up the mantle. An able wolf if he had known one! Mixed feelings twisted as he padded up the trails to the usual meeting place for the pack. Burning eyes watched as the new ruler took her throne and he smiled to himself. Leadership seemed to suit her and soon his grin turned outward towards her. Hail, lady! He said, tail wagging, eyes shining. The light of the crown looks marvelous on you.