The past several seasons had been a blur. Between his commitments to Arturio and his peculiar devotion to his wee shadow, he’d bounced back and forth between Glorall and Diveen more times than he remembered. On top of that he’d been trying to stay abreast of the situation with Iromar. First the self proclaimed Dark Bringer had stirred up chaos to a boiling point and then he’d gone and disappeared, leaving a peculiar lass in his place who had been weakened by whelping his bastards and was in no condition to hold Iromar. But now that things seemed to be settling down, Dirk felt it was time for him to return to Diveen and make himself more useful.

Cutting across the fields as the sun sunk below the horizon, Dirk’s bright gaze cast about for any threats in the snow. For the most part, the only enemy a wolf had in the winter was the weather itself and certainly the weather seemed to be doing its best to make things difficult. The forests of Encora were buried and the fields were only marginally less so. Plodding through the snow, Dirk was glad to be going home; glad to finally have a home to go back to after his time spent adrift.

His gaze cast further afield, he nearly missed the curled form in his path. The only thing that gave her away in the blush of the sunset was her lifted head and the glint of starlight in her eyes. Stopping abruptly, the brute tilted his head and peered at the little lass. Why was he forever finding peculiar wee things in this field? “Hallo.” Came his raspy, gruff greeting. His voice was deep and accented and a bit gravelly from not being used overly much.