Caerus (almost)

[Thalia]

Since he’d nosed the forgetful one from her odd and unwelcome vigil, Thorn Paw had taken it upon himself to watch the firstden, despite his dislike of its cold scents. Given her nature, she was apt to return like a confused and mewling pup at least once and maybe more before the warning sank in deep enough to heed. His teeth would be ready for the reminder. Wyldfyre didn’t need to know.

Time circled strange in the dream, and mostly he dozed with ears perked towards peripheral sound. His grizzled muzzle rested between soft paws some way from the twisted one’s stone, content to keep distance. Perhaps Wyldfyre would find it strange to discover the old wolf resting here alone ahead of one of his inevitable visits, but perhaps not. There was too much newness in this world to distract his newly opened eyes.

Scent marked the first hint of his brother’s arrival. Thorn Paw’s gold eyes opened, though his head did not lift. His haunches shifted, tail adjusted for warmth. He did hate the cold. You stink of dog, flashed his gruff greeting.