Get up, get out!

Was he moping? No, absolutely not. He was simply.. Well. He was moping a little. There were a lot of emotions tied to his father retiring, especially retiring to the other end of the world. Where their mother had died. Those facts took a lot of time to work through, and he wasn't about to start now. He'd heard the new Warlord's call, summoning the pack to discuss the change in leadership. Stratum hadn't been in the mood to haul his ass that far from the comfort of his den just to hear about how his nephew was going to do this, or that, or promote his mate, or whatever. So he curled up on his admittedly luxurious bed of furs and fleeces, and pulled one of them over his head. The awkward lumps of his horns were no more of an indicator of his presence than the sheer size of him hidden away in the corner, nearly three hundred pounds of wolf didn't exactly disappear under one fur.

So when his brother came in at approximately Mach Jesus, calling out for Stratum's companions to help him, the giant knew he was in trouble. Perhaps if he didn't move, he could keep hiding away in his bed. However, once the words "broke Kite's leg" escaped his brother's mouth, he was up. Forcibly shaking the fur off of his head, then detangling it from his horns, and then stumbling towards the other male. The furrow in his own brow only deepened when he saw the storminess of Crux's expression. Oh, they were angry. They were supposed to be furious about this. His lip curled reflexively as a hint of protective fury tripped up his spine.

It took a moment for the demand to progress from ear to brain, and for his adrenaline-riddled brain to digest the information. Leaving? "Where?" he couldn't help balk at the notion. They had been born here, this was all that they knew. Well, it was all Stratum knew. He'd been perfectly content to linger close to home- their first trip abroad hadn't exactly gone swimmingly. "Is Kite coming with us? Charlie? Andy?" there was a subtle impact against the right side of his neck, a small bat finding his perch there as usual. Stratum's hackles were up, he was beginning to bristle with barely contained emotion. A rare sight indeed. His gunmetal eyes flickered around the den, trying to figure out what would happen with his things. He'd gathered up so many of them over the years. Without thinking, he limped to the alcove of his bed and reached for a pair of well-worn leather cuffs, tying them frantically over his forelegs so they wouldn't be forgotten.

"Catch me up here, Crux. What the hell happened out there?" he growled, brushing the dust from his travelling gear- the harness and its accoutrements had been crafted in a more optimistic time, when all of his legs had functioned. Regardless, he was the sturdiest one here, and he would be a pack mule for his siblings any day. He worked quickly to toss anything important or useful into the various pouches on the harness.