She was a worried mother.
Ever since Hypatia had been nabbed by that mad man, she'd been worried. Winter clearly wasn't the only enemy they had to face, and she hated that thought. Pushing back anger, she had been sniffing around the borders, for once not checking for scents of strangers, but for the scent of her son. He'd been distant since they're last talk, but she'd decided to leave him to it. He was growing up, and perhaps there was only so much she could do to offer her help. Always, the woman would remind herself, remember that if he needs something, he will come to you. It was with that thought that she allowed herself sleep at night. But it seemed as though he hadn't returned home the previous night. His scent was stale in the den.
But she tried not to worry. The stranger had been dealt with, he wouldn't try again, certainly not. And while her children weren't yearlings, they could easily wander the lands surrounding the Glen. Stale, again. Facing the red hills, she could just make them out through the trees. They were distant, but ostentatious, even without their vibrant crests visible. Her ears flicked and she swallowed her fears again, shook away a bloom of guilt in the back of her mind. It would be fine. He'd just gone off, perhaps to brood, and she would find him, nudge him home. With difficulty, she followed the stale trail, only glad that it had stopped snowing. There was always a sting in her nostrils that made it hard to follow a trail when it snowed.
With difficulty, she plodded ahead, ears pressed forward, gait gradually lengthening as the trail continued to stretch on and on, towards the hills. Finally leaving the woods, she slowed, golden eyes searching for any signs of her pale child. A nervous smile crept up her face, "Kyros!" She called out, a strange little laugh in her voice. "Time to come home! Enough of this game!" It was a game, clearly it was. He'd been gone all night, at least, and there was hardly a place to shelter out here. She called his name again, and moved carefully up a slope. The dirt was packed and frozen, it would hardly show a trace of earthen red in her wake. Nostrils flared, she paused again, nose pressed to the snow. Though its figurative timestamp was still hours and hours ago, there was something stronger about. Recent, fresh.
She exhaled, a noise of relief that drew energy from her whole form, body and soul. "Ok, you've got me. You win. Come on." Rolling her eyes, she ceased her vertical climb and moved across the hill how, being careful not to slip. There was an urgency in her step as she moved further from her striking point, a narrowness in her gaze as she spotted a discrepancy in the snow meters away. Her heart lurched up into her throat as she plowed disastrously through the blanket of white, paws slipping over the ice beneath the snow. Without hesitation, she began to clear away the snow from what now appeared to be a mound. It was a rock, it had to be just a rock. A rock that smelled like her son. What was initially firm beneath her paws began to shift as she moved the layer of snow.
Pale fur. Matted and frozen. Her movements faltered for a moment, before she went ahead almost blindly now, as though none of this was what it seemed. With careful tilts of her muzzle, she cleared the precipitation from his head, with her paws she drew it away from his legs. The three-legged form was free from his snowy prison. It would be alright. Certainly, it would. Crouching down before his face, she nudged his cheek. It was cold. "You've won. Stop messing around." She scolded the lifeless form, nudging the frozen cheek. Moving around to his back, she laid down in the snow, drawing her head over his neck, nose brushing his muzzle, trying so hard to warm him, as though that was the problem. After a few long moments, she reluctantly lifted her head, and howled. A pleading, fearful sound, begging for assistance. It was short lived, as she quickly dropped herself again, pressing her own slowly chilling form against the lifeless form of her son.
It was a game, that's all. Just a game.