Glorall was a listed enemy of Asteraia, it was a well known fact throughout Moladion. The question was, did the tension begin because of Aster’s inability to hold her tongue? Or because there was a true threat to the packs? Rolling his eyes to himself, the dark warrior was fairly confident he knew the answer to these questions without having to look too deeply into the details. His loyalty only ran so deep. Logic ran deeper. Still, as ranked Warchief, he considered it his duty to at least look into Glorall.

Lingering on the border of Iromar and Glorall, he remained mostly in the Grotto until the high winds started to force him out. Baring his teeth, he shifted his plans. The fields were next on his list. As a loner, he had spent time simply watching the world around him move. At ease, he seemingly ignored the coming and going of wolves, taking note of all of them, smelling the air for those who seemed to come from the beaches. To his growing annoyance, it seemed like many of the wolves were as aloof as their Alpha was. Sneering, he skulked still along the borders, not daring to cross the lines and create more trouble for his pack. Just because his Alphess was impulsive, did not mean the rest of them were. Shaking his head, he cleared his visage and relaxed his body. He was not here as a threat, he was simply here to learn. By all means, his intentions were pure and harmless. On some level he even considered if he might be able to smooth things over between the two packs. On a second thought, he did not think it necessary to waste his time with trying to put out every wildfire Aster might start. That was not his job. That was Halcyon’s job.