Despite any potential protesting, Dirk had refused to abandon Arturio as many others had after his defeat and subsequent loss of Asteraia. The White Knight had not been the only one invested in the vision he’d created of a land of honorable wolves where all were welcome. Indeed, Dirk had become quite enamored of the idea. So much so that he’d contemplated seeking out the beautiful wolf from the crags and doing a warrior’s best to woo her. But now, he had no home or security to offer one such as her so inklings of dreams had been placed on hold in favor of finding a new home. Of making sure that those he’d pledged himself to both openly and within his heart were looked after until the dust settled.

Mostly he’d begun to worry about Siren during his time up North, his wee shadow who lurked the fields and plains of the east doing who knew what. He was no longer a presence in the area and Asteraia had been taken by a wolf he knew nothing about aside from the fact that she knew exactly where and how to strike to make a point. He’d not laid eyes on the lass in ages and he hoped that she was still well. With her silly puplike mannerisms in mind, he trailed after Arturio as he made his way to Glorall. It was where his wee mad lass hailed from. Like a silent dark shadow behind the white knight, Dirk paused as Arturio sent out the call and joined his own voice; perhaps his wee shadow would hear him and come.