Too much noise. Too many. Too much everything. Blackthorne had amassed quite the following, no? She should've known - and they were all little beasts too. She'd seen that in him, of course. He liked the chaos, liked the twisted words and thorns that spread from Iromar. He wanted more though. Ah, he always wanted more. Beltane, however, was a wolf who didn't crave the same chaos as he; she wanted balance, preferred the existence of all things as opposed to just one. Perhaps that is why she had spent so much time outside he moors while his other creatures settled in.
In any case, she roamed far and wide; she fed on old meat, crept inside logs to rest, basked on rocks and watched the stars and clouds with dizzying fascination. Even alone, she was never truly alone - everything whispered to her, always. Go, go, go; move, move; search, look! She couldn't settle down even if she wanted to. Being released from Asteraia had...truly freed her.
So she followed him. He's white like him! Blackthorne wanted the White One. Beltane didn't care to understand why and she cared just as little about capturing him but...to know him! To find him! Ah, it'd be so interesting to see what they had to say about him. What made him so special? As she followed the white wolf, she hadn't noticed the marks of red, transfixed only on the way the sun illuminated his pale fur. Everybody was hushed as she approached, tentative paws and a swinging, swaying gait.