Life had been slow since his return from the Peak. Losing his position as Marauder had been a blow that Isengrim had not expected to effect him as much as it had. His time as a prisoner had done nothing strengthen his resolve and desire to be better for his brothers. He had been indifferent to most things prior to his imprisonment, but that seed of darkness had taken hold and pushed him closer to what would be his destiny. His dark wasn't evil, there was a good man beneath that speckled hide, even if he hid him deep down. His dark and his light was draped across him like a shawl, every puddle's reflection reminding him he was both. But his face was dark.

Isengrim noticed Warg earlier than he let on. Though he was not exceptionally tall, the wiggling yearling could be spotted through some of the less dense areas of foliage. But that didn't mean Isengrim wouldn't play along. With mock startlement, Grim jumped back with a snort of his quivering nostrils. He planted his ears and dropped his head, like a challenging buck. He snapped his long tail against his speckled hide, a playful smirk on his face.

With a lightly feathered leg he stomped the ground, sending a small splash of stagnant water across his legs. "You got me," he said, playfully, with a shake of his knotted mane.