Tthey’re not stars, they're holes poked into the top of a container so we can breathe

Corvus knew very little about the packs that existed on this continent - or had ceased to exist, he supposed. He nodded somberly to Álarr's words. "That's the one thing we're always able to count on, isn't it? Change," he mused thoughtfully. He remembered how things changing had once seemed catastrophic, and while he still didn't necessarily like change, he knew it was always survivable no matter how hard it seemed.

"I remember Rhythm well," he answered quickly. "I was never close to her but I remember her being around for a good chunk of my life. She's my cousin Theory's grandmother." Thinking of Theory always brought a pang of guilt to his chest, and made him wonder if he hadn't done enough to find her. He had to hope he'd see her again someday, but with how much time had passed it was hard to be very hopeful at all. "So I guess in a way we're sort of related, at least by association," he suggested with a small grin. It was a stretch but it was nice to feel some sort of connection with someone here, since he hadn't really fully settled in yet.