Frost crackled underpaw, the dense coverage afforded by the plentiful conifers keeping away much of the snow that came and went. The sun's visits became shorter with each passing day, the angled rays that came through the canopy of the forest feeble and barely enough to warm the male's raven-black pelage, let alone the icy ground. He was growing tired of all this searching, his limbs burned and his belly ached from it's hollow perch high in his ribcage.
Little more than a whim had lead him north, with nothing else go on as to which direction his siblings had fled. But his gut feeling had paid off when he caught a slight scent threaded through the timberland, faint but familiar. Calanthe. What had lead his poor sister here he could only guess, but was determined to get to the bottom of it. The scent could be days, perhaps even weeks old, but finally having something to go on only fueled his conviction. His dark claws sank into the frozen earth for traction as he practically threw himself up and down the hillsides, following the faint trail and it's many false starts and stops.
As the sun began to sink in the west, Cathair had found himself at the base of a small mountain, the bounds of a pack. He wasn't interested in them, but rather his sister who seemed to be residing within. The Jaggedmaw tipped his head back, his rough voice bellowing out a demanding summons for @Calanthe.