waking up the ghost
The rogue paused, head cocked to the west. Gold eyes tracing along the blue sky where he noted the sun was drifting closer to the mountain. It would still be a while longer till it slipped away into night, and he had plenty of time to thoroughly patrol. It wasn't like the dark bothered him any way .It just made his lonely walk more cold. What else was new?
With a huff he pushed himself into a slow lope, quick breathes tugging from his open mouth. He made his way to the edge of the territory ready to make another round to mark their borders. He had noticed while the Archers may still roam, they were still grieving the loss of their sister. If he could at least reinforce the boundaries of the Ridge, they would have a little less to worry over.
He raised up, raking his blunt claws along old marks on a great willow. Satisfied the mark was fresh, he took a step back to admire his work. Then heard the sound of another. He stepped away, craning his neck to see the white figure. He didn't have to think twice to know it was Sven. "Care to join me?" He would gladly take his help. There was something he wanted, he needed to tell him.