And as it all came back to, instinct took over and without needing to exchange the pleasantries of names or allegiances. It didn't matter. The mist had called to all of them, whispers trailing down their spines until they were all engulfed. Vidarr only spared a glance to see the blur of Isaiah as he immediately set chase. The boy was willowy like Olive, he had taken his father's darker coat and took part of Olive's soul. The Druid was still well missed, a sore wound that still often throbbed through the pack. The wound still had fresh scars, signs of the loss and the hurt they had all endured.

So it came as no real shock that Tiberii set after her younger sibling, but the bolt of panic that was etched into every syllable. For a moment he was frozen in time, taking a few minutes to stare at the three of them - siblings without parents, they had faced loss after loss. It was cruel to lose a parent, it was worse to lose one twice, and then still their giant guardian had been taken from them too. Three Shakti-Vaes children. Three losses. The obvious meshing of their parents genes and very souls in flight together.

It was beautiful, even with their grief nipping at their heels. The faster wolves had made a break for it in an obvious bid to break up the herd. Vidarr was not fast - especially not with the mess of burn marks on his shoulder. He was strong though. And he would take great joy in this hunt. Immediately Vidarr noticed Meleys - build not unlike his own, a beast in dark flesh. A low woof to get her attention, seeking to meet eyes even for a second. It was an instinctive response, something deep-rooted in all of them, and it did not take a lengthy discussion to form a plan. The largest of them all would be needed to best the great Stag.

This would be a tale worthy of passing down.