Perhaps it was the season addling his mind but Askan couldn't help but think of family and what the word meant to him. Before he left the mountains he'd never even thought about it, after all, family was everywhere he looked: yellow eyes, dark coats and a stifling sense of superiority. But now? As far as he was aware, they were all gone. The Dynasty had been brought to a bloody end and those who remained had scattered to the wind, their tails between their legs. Askan wasn't angry, perhaps a little disappointed but what was he to do? What was done was done, missing the dead wouldn't bring them back. Not ever.
Though they weren't his blood, there was no denying that the wolves of the Edge were his family, they cared for him far more than many of the Selwyns ever did. Whilst it was an unpleasant thought, one that made shame creep into the forefront of his mind, Askan couldn't help but feel a grateful that the Edge wolves decided to stick with him, with his flaws and all. Perhaps it was sappy of him (damn it, it really was), but Askan wanted to return the sentiment. At first he wasn't sure how, as there wasn't much he could offer these days, but then it dawned on him that he had one thing of interest, one thing that would solidify it all: his name.
Askan traipsed through the woods, heading ever south, hot on the trail of the Edge's resident youngsters. Soon enough he found them in the wide open space of a glen, a quiet little sanctuary, befitting of such a sensitive topic. At least it felt that way to Askan, emotions were hard and being nice always felt foreign to the Edge Lord, like he was reciting words off a script. Clearing his throat, he stepped out into the open and cut right to the chase. His expression was tight and his posture tense, with a sigh he rolled his shoulders and forced his tail to wag lazily in greeting. It wasn't bad, but Askan was serious, this meant a lot to him.
"You two got a minute?"