Valhalla. They were his allies, his extended family. Erani, the ivory healer and warrior, the woman that had taken him in as her own kin, despite having been from the enemy pack at the time. Chrysanthe. The daughter of Erani and his technical adopted sibling. He hadn't seen her since he had left the day of the Seige with his half aunt in tow. How was she faring? How was Valhalla dealing with the aftermath of the war? Surely there had to be some lasting effects on his allies? His worry extended to the valhallans and thoughts of their condition would plague his mind. So many things to worry about, so many to take care of. He would've never imagined that he would end up leader of his own pack with the bastard who sired him hunting for his head. But he wouldn't change a single thing. Perhaps this what he had been meant to do.
Late evening was beginning to settle in. Pinks and oranges would flare up against the tops of the trees, signaling the setting of the sun and beginning of night. And yet Taurig would not feel the pull of sleep. Constant worrying would keep the cobalt Re up, his massive form situated in front of his den, Maija sound asleep within the den's depths. He would listen to her quiet breathing in an effort to calm his churning thoughts. But his momentary peace would be disrupted by a voice he hadn't heard in a good while; Chrysanthe. The Valhallan Queen had traveled all the way from the west to come to his borders? He would wait a moment to catch his Queen's next breath before allowing himself to raise to his paws, the paws that seemed to have memorized their own path to his borders. It would be only a few minutes before he would reach the borders, his scent markers alerting him to his arrival, as well as Chrysanthe's overwhelming scent. Chrysanthe, you're always welcome here. No need to stand at the border. He would call out gently, coming to a stop at he would assume was a respectable distance, blind eyes turned in the direction where her scent was the strongest, waiting for to cross into his kingdom.
