In these desprate times

All was settling into place rather nicely. Nicer than one would've expected. Gargoyle had lost his home to a challenger - blow which might've crumpled any alpha. But not him. He didn't have the freedom to pine away, nursing a wounded ego or dramatically deem himself unworthy. He had pups to look out for, and a loyal band of followers to guide. Despite injuries, he'd found them all a new home. It different - of course it was - but he could see the wolves begining to adjust. Some slowly, some rapidly. He was one of the quicker ones himself. He'd traveled around enough to appreciate the pros and cons of each land. One of the pros here, he'd already noticed, was Crusade. He'd expected her to be the most pained at the move, but he'd never seen the old wolf in better condition. The climate here was perfect her for, and just the other day she'd discovered a pool of ground and rain water that was heated by some underground vent - it was perfect for healing any wounded wolf, and she said it did her old joints a world of good. It was the smiles on his family's faces, and the content he read in their gazes, that made Gargoyle assure himself he had not failed them.

But there were still some faces missing. Eren and Seraphiel, he'd been told, had remained behind. And many other wolves had just disappeared to the four winds. And where was Awaken? He had been there to help heal Gargoyle, he'd been to the meeting called by the usurper, and he'd helped Ithruial just about the power change. But where was he now? It was times like these that Gargoyle most needed his braves to remain at their stations. Unfortunately he'd had no time search the male out, he'd been busy exploring the new territory for dangers, mapping out good hunting grounds, and marking the borders.

It was while carrying out these duties that he first caught scent of the missing male. Gargoyle's ears, tattered and whole, both perked forward. He set a tawny paw to the edge of the stone he'd been standing on, and raised his head into the wind to test the scent further. A second later, he was barreling away at break neck pace down the sheer, uneven slopes of the mountain. From the way the Timber cross leapt and landed, zigged and zagged, braced and bolted, one would never have guessed at the condition he'd been in barely two weeks ago. The only traces of the battle were the puckered patches of skin, showing grey-pink against the fur on his neck, throat and left leg. Those too would soon enough, aiding by the shedding of spring. The male might have been on the far side of five, but he was still beyond the prowess of most canines.

He pulled up short, bursting through a line of stunted pines and appearing beside the returning male. "Awaken!" It was a quick, rolling snap, something like a bark. With Gargoyle's lack of tone it could've denoted anger as just as easily as happiness, but it was the latter that he felt. His ears perked forward as he looked the male over with lifeless yellow eyes. He took it all in and said at last. "You look terrible, rookie. What have you done to yourself?" But a second later he let a low, thundering sound from his throat - the male's version of a chuckle- and stepped forward to conch heads with his packmate. It was an odd gesture to be sure, and one that the male might pull back from, but it was old warrior's greeting that Gargoyle had learned long ago. It was also a gesture he hadn't made to another wolf since his days in the dark wars, a sign of respect and comradery that came naturally in this moment of reunion. What spoke more of male friendship than a "gentle" bash to the skull?