Past the tribulation

Mortis trotted along the Armada border, wondering where his Father had darted off to this time. He had taken off like the wind, and Bast had come trotting along some time later to tell the Winged boy that he was to run patrols and keep an eye on the Armada for now. He scowled, kicking at a loose stone in the earth before him. He was supposed to be training to… what, take over the pack some day? Or at least help keep it floating for now. Anything else could wait.

But how was he supposed to do that if communication started and ended with Sirius? Shaking his head, the boy turned inwards, intending to check on the stores. Instead, he found a small, skinny, girl collecting herbs in the plains.

He recognised her scent, he had caught it here and there along the territory. He knew she was a wolf that Sirius had dragged home - something he had not done for some time now. That was about all he knew of the girl. Folding his wings lightly to his side, he trotted over. “Hello! We haven’t met yet, but I’m Mortis Fatalis, my father brought you home some time ago, right?”

"Mortis Fatalis"