Riddle Heights we live for the night's decor

@Kyna LATE START BECAUSE I AM TRASH I AM SORRY FORGIVE ME

Greer was exceptionally good at keeping to himself—especially when he was not supposed to be keeping to himself. It felt strange being back in territories he used to haunt. He still felt as though he was just visiting from the rock in the north and eventually he would have to return home. That was what Morganna would want; for him to return with Kyna at his side and strengthen Whitestone numbers. For a time it was what Greer had wanted, as well, but the longer he remained in Riddle Heights the more comfortable he became.  

Kyna helped. She was home, no matter where he was. The flame would always be home.

Once spring had rolled into the lands of Lore, chasing away the persistent snow with warmer temperatures, the shadow would make his way back up north. Explain why it had taken him so long to return and why he was not planning on staying. What he had here, in the Heights with Kyna, was something the Archer had never planned for. Growing up he had wanted the exact opposite. Leadership, love… these were things the shadow had never desired. He preferred staying in the shadows, quietly observing and doing his tasks without recognition. At first he had resisted the change, trying to distance himself from the strawberry blond and keep to himself. It did not work for long, for she possessed his mind more than he would care to admit and the distance between their visits grew shorter. Now there was no distance—aside from when they went to stretch their legs.

Snow continued to fall, dusting his obsidian pelt and the rocky terrain around him. He was perched neatly atop a large, flat rock which overlooked the Southern Eden. If the sun was out rather than the moon Greer would have been able to see his birthplace. After learning that his mother and father had passed the shadow no longer knew who was in control, or if there was anything left of the Ridge pack. His heart sank at the thought. Elettra had worked so hard to continue the legacy of Willow Ridge—even though he was no longer a member of the pack, the Archer would hate to see it all fall apart after her death.

A frown creased his dark features, ears twitching as he tried to make out the willow trees below with the light of the moon. Once things became more permanent on the mountain Greer knew he would have to visit his family, or what was left of it, in the Ridge. Let them know that he was close by, if they even cared. He eyes crinkled in amusement at the thought, but aside from that he remained statuesque, enjoying the silence that he had to himself.