hello darkness my old friend

The Warlord was alerted to Magnus’s return by the cry of his winged companion. He would think nothing of it, but for the pip of weariness in that cry. He raised his head, watching where Marshal circled, and frowned, before leaving off his patrol and heading in the direction indicated.

He found Mags staring at his paw, looking terribly lost in thought, and a little distraught. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, or what was wrong at a glance. He stepped closer to his wolf, leaning his side gently against that of the shorter Reaper, offering silent, possessive support, giving Magnus a chance to work through his thoughts. If he wanted to tell his Warlord what was going on in that head of his, no doubt he would.