what are we waiting for?

Restless seemed to be the Destruction man's default state lately - or hell, if he was being honest, he'd always been the restless type even from childhood - but it seemed especially palpable lately. He had no doubt that others were noticing it too, but rather than dwelling on his own uneasy thoughts he was trying to be productive. Reaching out to his fellow Abaven members to see how they were doing, or to just see if they wanted to spend time with someone; no doubt the restlessness was partly shared among his packmates.

The sound of something up ahead caught his attention, but he didn't pay much mind to it, at least initially. He trusted that Winterfell wouldn't ambush them; Ignis was his best friend, wasn't he? It was hard to imagine him deceiving him, as hard as he tried to picture it in his head. He continued moving through the thick grasses, though reeled back sharply when someone suddenly leapt out at him. The yearling wasn't immediately familiar, but after a second or two of scrutinizing he realized who he was. Corvus knew who he wasn't, despite having never interacted with him directly. Despite his shortcomings, Corvus luckily had a decent grasp of both names as well as faces.

He tried to mask the slight bit of surprise he'd felt at being lunged at, trying to force a faint smile - hoping it didn't look too feigned. "It's okay," he assured him quickly. "I don't blame you for being on edge. Kinda hard not to feel that way lately," Corvus admitted with a soft sigh. "Desolate, right?" He added, trying to start some friendly conversation in the only way he really knew how. Small talk wasn't really his thing, but trying to be friendly to his packmates was more important to him than any discomfort he might initially feel.