It was a miracle at all that Harpy's Talon had survived this long.

Sheer will had gotten him through the ice age, the plague, living off of scraps.

He had grown skinny.

He had been looking for a proper challenge to kill him, a strong wolf, someone right.

He had found her, then, her scent at least.

The Eaglet who had fell all those years ago, the favored child he had seen broken on the rocks, the one he had torn the pup watcher to pieces for, for not watching her close enough to prevent such a tragedy.

He would see if she was worthy enough, he would see if the eaglet has earned her right to soar.

Harpy had watched the pack for days, hidden, laying in wait. To confirm that the scent belonged to the lost eaglet, to confirm it was her and not someone that smelled the same.

It was.

He saw her, as large as Golden, powerfully built as he knew she would become. Such wasted potential, to be in a pack that barely kept it's borders...

The commander showed himself, tail up, lightly wagging. For all intents and purposes, looking very much like the grandfather glad to see his granddaughter. Eaglet, I thought I had lost you, and here you stand grown