Beat was old and he was haggard. Really, had he been a part of a pack, he still could have had a few good years left in him. However, the black and white man had been alone for such a long time. The hardships of life had beaten him down until he was little more than skin, bones. Scars riddled his body from years of fending for himself. He was old, he was sad, and he had come back to his homeland to die.

Getting back to Boreas forced Beat to go through Auster. He barely looked up as he moved, but didn't have much choice when the world began to shift. One of the stone pillars stood directly in his path and he had to stop, looking up to try and see the top. This deposited him on his rear and he could feel the earth giving a little rumble beneath him as though preparing for something. There was no fear in him, only curiosity. What was coming?

"This has got to be a warning, no?" Bancha murmurs to himself as he stares up at the towering spires. "Possibly not a warning, but these weren't here before, were they?" His aqua eyes look to the sky, brow drawing downward in an uncomfortable way. He wasn't one that often scrunched or hemmed and hawed. This happening deserved it. The wolf could tell just by looking at it. Blood-red sky cascading over his surroundings, flooding the air with a stillness that is soon stirred by an eerily delicate wind. Howls that belong to no animal whistle around him, piercing his ears.

The sound forces him to look away from the rising monoliths. "Maybe I should look elsewhere," he doesn't really notice he's murmuring to himself which is new... Paws draw him away from the spires where suddenly the ground is soft and supple. Interesting. Scratching at the dirt, Bancha feels it give way just a bit more. Why did it feel so much different than the ground nearer the metal towers? Wouldn't it be the opposite?

Bancha's attention quickly looks up toward movement nearby. Another wolf, older, looking curiously at the monoliths. "Have you noticed the ground?" Bancha calls out tentatively, head canting for a moment before he goes back to scratch at the dirt where it feels... odd.

BANCHA

The screaming, wailing sound of the wind as it blew through the cuts in the spires was almost deafening at points. It seemed as though the deeper Beat walked into the strange city of towers, the louder the wailing became. It was terrifying in a sense, but what did he have to lose?

A voice calls out, questioning him and Beat looks to the the side, a small, earthen wolf coming into view. The black and white brute moves towards the youngster. Maybe they could figure this out together. "Now that you mention it, it does feel different. If these things pushed up from the ground, shouldn't the dirt closest to them be the softest?"

After scraping dirt away with his own paws, Beat's purple and teal eyes moved to glance at the boy. "My name is Beat," he said in old, scratchy tones. "The sound on the wind, it keeps getting louder. Have you noticed?"