Skoll was thoroughly on the mend. With his mental stability and a return to a more regular routine, old habits had resurfaced and muscle memory kicked in. When he awoke from his slumber, nestled at Niles' side, he tiptoed away and gave a stretch that popped most of the vertebrae in his spine and both his ankles. It felt good to be home...
A shake of his still thick winter pelt and he was off. He started along the borders of the Scowle, relieving himself on certain trees as he went, before slinking away towards the Marsh. It was quieter there, he remembered, and the pull of the nearly-full moon drew him to the sight of frozen wetlands. Almost every place where the water ran shallow was frozen over and where the winter could not wilt the strong-stalked vegetation, the reeds and dry grasses stood tall. With a roll of his shoulders and the lifting of his head, he surveyed the lands, his nails just softly clicking on the ice patches. The last time he had been here, Niles had gone looking for their sister Isolde; Wraith and some other woman, whose name he had forgotten, had been with him, but he barely remembered them. The time before, he had come here in search of Piety, and in remembering that Skoll was certain now that he only stole away to these parts to mourn.
He grimaced at himself as he sat, half-hidden in the stark shadow of a patch of reedgrass. His head craned upward, the whole of his upper body shifting as though he longed for nothing but to bathe in the moon glow. His mouth turned downward at the corners. Perhaps it was best that he mourned the loss of his lovers - all that had been, all that could have been, and all that never was.