It was foolish, trying to sooth his own, wounded pride, driven by the dragon's thirst, and what did it leave him with?  Healing scars across his face and his Mother's ire.  While he'd certainly not apologize to the younger wolf, the one-eyed wonder made a point to steer clear of him.  When possible, he would hunt, and all other times he sought only the company of himself.  Usually, he would sulk in the den he'd carved out for himself near Zephyr Rill.  Boredom would urge him on soon, aided by the restlessness of the dragon's wings – healed enough to walk without a limp, he would comply, slipping out of Hearthwood River's boundaries for the space he could not seek when amongst his packmates.

Packmates, he thought with disgust.  

Joining any group, under the rule of any male, was a stupid decision.  Ears flattened against his skull as the male walked onwards – perhaps he'd be gone for days.  Perhaps he wouldn't return.  What ever would be the point, the dragon asked him bitterly, but the wolf already knew the answer.

Karina.

He could not leave his treasure there.  Take a day or two for himself, get his wits back together, and then he would go consult with his princess on the matters at hand.

The male's line of thought was broken when he realized he'd come across a watering hole – practically littered with ducks and geese, he might have made a hunting attempt if he were in better health.  Instead, he sought only to slither forth, dipping his head to quench his thirst.  As the cool water hit his palate, he offered a pleased sigh, staring down at his reflection.  A blessing.  A small one, but a blessing, all the same.

"'s tha' you, Mother?"

Just a wandering bitch – from where, he did not know. Uncharacteristically, he found he really could not bring himself to care. The wounds that took so much time to heal did not poison his flesh, but they did so contaminate his mind. But what sick wolf could look at his reflection and see such?

While his ears flattened against his skull, the dragon made no further motion to threaten the female. Unlike himself, she looked the picture of health – perhaps more importantly, she all but dwarfed him in size. Not unlike Urotho, his mind whispered traitorously, and his ears rotated back another fraction. There was no need to give that woman even a fraction of his memories, but the badger invaded his thoughts all the same.

Giving his pelt a shake, he forced the ghost back and remained where he stood, tail low and hackles flat. A third fight was not one he could afford – he doubted he could even best Karina or Orren in a state such as this. "lo," he finally acknowledged the other wolf, slowly drawing back from the watering hole. He'd had his fill – if she wished for a drink, he was not in the position to prevent her from having her turn. "Feel free. Jes' passin' through meself," Kjors sighed, allowing himself to relax his injured limb. If this went sour, he was at least close enough to Kingsfall that he felt he could escape.

"Don' suppose y'got a name, lass? Y'smell like pack…though naw 'ny Ah know."

Kisla was no @Avari – there was no mistaking that. For now, for now, he was content enough to work towards the well-being of the Queen and her clan.

"M'name is Kjors. Ah am surprised y'know the pack relocated – though if yer a friend a' Naia's…" Leave it to the argonaut to spill vital information such as that. As he understood it, the upheaval from Cedarwood Forest had been a necessity of safety, dictated by warring packs surrounding them. What asylum could they hope for, if the head scout shared that information with everyone who passed? The male sighed, but did not argue the point. It was damage done. "Bu' yes, Ah hunt, mainly. Teach th' yearlin's, when they need it. Naw much of 'nyone, Ah suppose. Wha' 'bout yerself? Where d'ya belong, lass? Naw 'round th' tundra here – Ah woulda noticed, Ah suspect."