Annoying old dwarf, Tychon’s internal thoughts grumbled when he recognized the peace he was keeping. After he issued the command, Tychon pivoted and began leading the pair up the mountainside. Butterfly, if she was family to the Alpha, irked Tychon more - but he begrudgingly gave her respect. Both Daenerys and Kalseru had impressed him and it was clear the whimsical white-faced female, similar to both alphas, was unmoved by his anger. He liked Daenerys. She’d have had no issue arguing with him from day one. He hated Kalseru for being tolerant, but respected her for rising to his challenge. He didn’t know how he felt about Butterfly. Maybe the same way he felt about the actual insect. Novel, but altogether irritating when they tried to land on his fur. Stupid bugs.

Tychon chose to ignore their conversation; let them be besties. It was clear they’d already made him the outcast. He was unkind in the path he chose up the mountainside. It was steep with steps nearly to large for him to step up. Tychon, despite his physical fitness because of his lifestyle, was huffing in effort long before the path even for the final stretch toward the interior pack-lands. The Tychon led the trio to timberline, and then skidded down a pebbled path back into the boreal forest. He balanced across a thin cliff line, and then the path finally eased. Tychon’s tongue was dripping a river of drool. He slurped in some of it, and lashed it along his exposed gum line. A string settled itself neatly across his muzzle.

The scent of wolves became strong, so Tychon paused. He quickly swiped a paw over his muzzle to clear the spit; he hoped it looked like the string just bother him… Tychon forced his lungs to settle their heaving breaths and he check on the wolves who followed him by just barely turning his head to pin with with an amber eye. His nose told him differently, but he was hoping one in particular had fallen to his death on the way up. After confirming they were with him, he lumbered onward.

The orange pine needles muffled the noise of their pads. Tychon found solace in the feel of the soft covering; he spent a lot of time waring his pads on rough stone. It was literally a comfort to feel the soft give of the dead leaves. In a clearing, beneath a short cliff he turned fully to the pair. His rasp could have been lost in his heavy breath if not for the formulation of the word on his lips, ”Wait.”

Tychon leaped up the cliffside and disappeared a moment to the den hidden from view.

“Kal,” Tychon’s crushed voice box produced the first syllable of her name in a fading wheeze and failed completely to produce the second and third. Tychon closed his eyes to keep from snarling in frustration at himself and sucked shuttering air in painfully. He felt his voice box slowly expand. He lip twitched in frustration anyways when he opened his eyes.

“Two loners,” He finished in the best quality of speech he could manage - a voice who’s vigor was murdered by hardship.

He watched the den for movement, and waited for the Bewilderbeast to emerge, who he would follow back to the waiting Pains-in-his-Ass. He had little hope that she would see through Tyrion’s clever tongue. Butterfly sure seemed hooked and reeled in, and he didn’t hold Kalseru to much more of a high standard. He expected she would probably scold him for being rude later… but you know, it wasn’t like it was his job to keep outsiders out.