Through the long night

The Warlord sighed, leaning his weight more heavily on his front paws. Taking the cup, and holding it in those paws before him. "There's always something going on in a pack. There's always kids and grandkids and drama and politics. I'm finding myself... old, and tired, these days." He admitted. Voicing a weakness he wouldn't say to any but her. "I can keep us fed in winter, especially if we explore Auster. We can throw that party for the kids before we leave, and find gifts to bring home to them. Mortis and Azure know how to make use of the supplies we've gathered. We will always be able to find excuses not to go, but I wish to go regardless."

He had never wanted the Armads to be a part of the world, he didn't want politics and drama, friends and enemies. He just wanted what was his, and to hold them tightly to him. Even that it seemed was impossible. The list of wolves that had slipped through his paws was growing by the day. He had intended that those that joined him not leave again, a condition of their entry. But leave they did. Life moved on. It left him feeling weary and tired, sick of a weight on his shoulders. "Will you come with me, Zee? Will you let me take you on a holiday, just the two of us? Walk away from leadership?"