It was early for the father who was typically more nocturnal in nature. Usually this was the time of day when he was in the longest stretch of sleep, but today every time he had gotten comfortable another round of coughs wracked his body. Eventually he had given up, and following a swift - though grumbly - border patrol silently slipped out of the territory. The lack of sleep would not make for a pleasant mood and he knew that. He just wanted some space so he didn’t take it out on someone else.

Viorel felt conflicted when it came to the mountain now. He still hated the heights, knew it had taken his daughter from him, but knowing that Archar lay at rest somewhere across it made his soul feel tied to the stone. It had taken so much from him and he had never so much as stepped a paw onto the dangerous terrain. He felt the need to be nearby, to stare at it until he had memorized as much as he could, as if it somehow held answers deep in its peaks if he only looked hard enough.

But all that staring had made his eyes begin to droop and he thought maybe he would be able to finally squeeze a few winks in. Settling on a nearby tree whose roots appeared to make the perfect place for a nap, gnarled and twisting and creating a perfect cover. Ducking underneath the man settled in.