He had headed east for some unknown reason. Under the guise of scouting and tracking, of course. Granted there wasn't much to find in the cold weather. Most creatures had their wits about them. Lay low and avoid the hungry predators of winter. So why hadn't he turned around? He couldn't answer it. Maybe he had been cursed with a phase of "itchy paws". It was a worrying idea truthfully. He had seen what had happened to Lorcan over and over again. He was all too familiar with the disaster of abandoners and roamers.
Would he be guilty of this too? Was it genetic?
He hoped not.
There was something heavy looming over the Rye leader and it was undeniable to anyone who even looked at him. A slump in his usually proud posture and tiredness seeping into his orange gaze. Maybe that was why he had come here. A familiar place of peace and happiness greeted him. Frozen over and too dangerous to climb down onto the surface but he could admire it from the edge on top.