he has not seen hide nor hair of his sister in some time, the summit that she had sought to claim devoid of her scent. though upset roils in his chest, a darkness that threatens to swallow him; dracarys keeps to his plan, with some deviation. with the strange visions he's gotten he hasn't been sleeping well. and because he hasn't been sleeping well, he hasn't been hunting well either. he conserves as much strength as he can to hunt rabbit; small mammals that keep starvation at bay but what feels like barely.

he's thin.

and he's tired.

and he craves the hierarchy of a pack.

and so he set off in search of one, settling for the one nearest his position. he stops a respectful distance from their borders, tips his head back and lets out a low howl to announce his presence; squinting against the sun of the early morning as it rises over the horizon.