Arthfael had taken to ignoring Tychon from a distance, their animosity having simmered over into violence a few times, but with distant all things cool. It was obvious that he had picked well when he drug Ty back from the free lands. While vicious and more than a bit rude, he had ended up making Spirane his permanent home and started making something of himself. Padding the borders, watching everything. Despite his rather obtuse demeanor, he wasn't stupid, and Arthfael sometimes felt a sort of pride in the other male. Not that he would EVER tell him. In fact, they hadn't spoken in a long time, but Arthfael had seen fit to tuck himself away focusing on.. Vesta.
She was beautiful to him, but young, and he yearned for her in a way that was uncomfrotable in the winter monthes. There is such an innocence to her that he refuses to let others get too near. When they did he made it a point to deviate from his now familiar stalking path and sidetrack them. The tears she had shed in his fur that time over her parents seemed to have left an invisible mark on him; he would not allow such misery to befall her again. Still, he kept a painful distance from her emotonally, always there as a shoulder. Always as a friend even when his eyes seemed to long for more. But it seemed sick.. she was young still. Only just maturing.
Today he had deviated his route due to the whole new leader thing. He supposed it was necessary he go say hello, how you doing, and then he could be left alone to do as he wished. You know, stalk Vesta. Yet he hadn't had a chance to catch her any breakfast and so his steps were hurried lest she think he had forgotten her. As he swings around a bend he sees the ass end of Tychon scooting out, moss in his ugly mouth, and he gives him a bland look.