This drought was a killer. He feared the effects it might have on their young, on Vanadis as a mother, and on the pack as a whole. They had already lost their grandmother… a loss he felt so deeply. He still felt it, and he wondered briefly if his mother shared the same fate, or if he should attempt to contact his aunt if only for the decency of letting her know that her mother had passed, peacefully, and was buried within pack lands… surely Vi would let her at least visit the gravesite, right? Vayko would not have a problem with it should she wish for it.

And yet all of those thoughts stayed him for a moment, standing near the pack den as he stared at the mouth. There were hints of exhaustion that carried at the weight in his eyes. He had been somewhat neurotic of late, between running for food, water, and running the borders to keep unwanted wolves out… he pushed because he felt like his pack needed him to. He rolled his shoulders back with a soft sigh, a rabbit in his jaws that was meant to sate him until his next hunt as he settled just outside the mouth of the pack den and began to tear into it, keeping his eyes out for any of the little balls of fur that belonged to Vanadis and Viorel or anyone else that might need him or just simply want a conversation.