There were few wolves left in Moladion that had bore witness to the skyfall. Sleekwing was one of the scant number that remained, a testament to the land that had existed before. Personally he did not even know if any other wolf that had known the lands of Solevion and Litherum, Esperatia Falls and Japeras Lake still roamed these new lands. Though they were no longer so new as they'd once been, nature taking its course and aging it in her way. There were many generations of wolves who had never known anything else. Families had risen and then fell, others had persevered and made new names of notoriety.

It was only natural for Sleekwing to think back on his littermates from time to time, wondering where in the world they might have gotten to. The last time he had seen Swallowbane they had made some semblance of amends - though the brothers themselves had never harbored ill feelings towards one another, the hatred Bane had harbored for their father had always weighed heavily upon Sleekwing. His resentment of Daenerys and her accomplishments, too, had finally been put to rest. So when he had vanished once more from the mountainside, there was at least peace in Sleekwing's heart if it was that they never met again. Orca, too, had been gone for quite some time, her gypsy soul bidding her to wander the world. They were opposites in all of the best ways - where he was rooted to the mountains of Spirane like an old tree, she was a free flying bird on the wind. Where he was a born warrior and protector of the homeland, she was a wildling spirit who had in all likelihood carried the story of their family far and wide across the world. Long ago he had accepted that he might never see his sister again, but he brooked no ill will for it. I was simply who she was.

Though time had changed much about the land and the wolves who lived upon it, as much stayed the same. Sleekwing was an aged man now, a willing retiree from his duties as the chief guardian of the mountains, and yet with the departure of his successor Baird he could not help but take up the occasional round of border patrol. In his prime it would take him hardly any time at all to run the perimeters, but now he moved without haste, and at a higher altitude. As much as he hated to admit it, he would likely be no help if he encountered an intruder face to face. So instead he watched from on high, and kept his nose to the wind for anomalous occurrences.

The scent that he came upon this day, however, made him stop in his tracks. No alarm was raised, no howl sent out to his Bewilderbeast nieces to inform them of the arrival of someone within the pack lands. For a moment he considered the notion that his nose was finally failing him, that his usefulness to the pack was further deteriorating. An old man that should take his rest and bide his remaining time babysitting pups. But there it was again, as much a wisp on the wind as the woman to whom it belonged. All at once he bounded out in pursuit of the wolf, moving like a wolf years younger than he. No time was wasted as he weaved along shortcuts that only a mountain born wolf knew, taking him higher up into the mountains. There was no time to waste. After all, it wasn't every day a wolf's long lost gypsy sister returned home for a visit.

Where he made haste, she had moved more at least through the packlands, and so it did not take him overly long to catch up to her. He slowed to a jog, then a walk as her perfume became stronger, his ears pricking forward and cerulean blue eyes searching for her. As luck would have it, he had been moving up the mountainside parallel to her, and all at once she emerged onto the same path as him. A smile spread across his features at the sight of her, his tail waving out behind him in a jubilant manner. "C'mon now," he said, his tone clearly jesting in its reproach, "I might be getting up there in years, but you didn't really think I'd let my guard down, did you?"