Tired paws formed a rythymic, monotone beat on the hard ground. His head hung low, heavy was exhaustion. Normally the lithe scout would've been filled with energy, purpose, and exhilaration at making his way back home, but shame was a thick grey cloud over his shoulders. When he got the news from @Skoll that young Deacon had gone missing, black paws had immediately carried him east. The mountains were the most dangerous place the eldest Archer-Lyall pup could've been, and the man knew that the absence of young Deacon's scent would be a comfort.
But what the copper and charcoal wolf hadn't realized was that he had never been in the mountains. A long while had been wasted wandering through the peaks in pursuit of escape from the uneven grey landscape. For a little while, he'd been close to death. But he was alive now. The man had triumphed over his demons to find his way out. For this reason he was proud, but the guilt of being gone for so long was a tough weight to bear. And the copper coated wolf knew exactly what he would do.
The borders of Willow Ridge lay here. Ironically, it was the same spot Angier had accepted him into the pack. The man had also met one of Angier's step-sons, Skoll, here. A sort of bond had emerged between the two. They were so different in looks and personality, but a light built and the ability to run was deeply ingrained in them both. A long howl was issued across the territory in the musical tone he so favored. It asked for his leaders, saying no more because it was certain they'd be here soon enough to hear straight from the Nan's mouth what had happened. He couldn't be sure yet about Deacon, but one thing was for sure: Lunas, the Willow Ridge scout, had returned home.