January 28th; Afternoon; Freezing fog; -18 ° F, -28 ° C
Since Greer had returned, everything seemed all back to normal for the most part. Apart from Taima missing, life was actually decent. It had been hard at first, missing her at nearly every waking hour of the day, but now it was actually his play-mates he missed. On yet another foggy morning, Octavius had woken up to an empty den with only his Uncle Angier at his back. Not wanting to disturb the slumbering Leader, the boy snuck away and out into the freezing mist.
He shook out his wiry auburn coat before making his way through the hard-packed snow and along the trails that his superiors had traveled before him. Eventually, several meters and a bunch of detours later, he came upon a small portion of the willows on the edge of the territory markers where a glade had been so well-traveled that the snow laid in near-level clumps. Even about the edges, the snow barely reached up to his knees and elbows. The young Lyall lowered his head with an inquisitive nose, finding nothing but faint traces of old scents. Some time ago, a number of familiar individuals had been here - Angier, Skoll, Elettra, Sorya, and a couple other adults - probably guarding, no doubt... Besides them, there was nothing fascinating or amusing about this particular place.
The young lord stepped between the bony, whip-like branches of a nearby willow then reclined down into a sphinx-like position to rest. If none of them had been this way for a while then perhaps he would give guarding a try; and, this would become one of his very first posts. That is, if he could manage to return to this very spot every other day or so.
He crossed his large paws in front of him, placing his right over his left, as he took in the quiet, serene surroundings. At this point, he came to appreciate both the silence and the loneliness. Not being with the ones he was usually with on a daily basis reminded him of "home." Home being the days when both of his parents were around to keep an eye on him and make sure he was kept quiet and somewhat fed. It also reminded him of when he was left on his own without anyone to talk to or play with when that had once been "the norm" so long ago. During times like this he liked to simply listen to the world; he swore that if he kept still enough, quiet enough, perceptive enough the world around him, Relic Lore, would tell him its secrets.
One of his ears perked at the sound of a passing bird overhead, its heavy wingbeats slicing and lashing at the air before it was gone, leaving Octavius just as he had been before. He lowered his head to rest on his forelimbs, setting his chin on his wrist, waiting - just like old times - for his parents someone or something to come by.