The young man had yet to come to Yale, but that was something that was going to be made right today. He’d given his word that the other would have his time to preach within his pack, and Ganta was admittedly curious. His ears were perked as he moved throughout Dragoste territory on a patrol that morning, wondering if he might run into the other male during his usual patrol. He had noticed that Yale’s scent had become stronger within the territory… a sign that he had decided to stay. Ganta was glad for that. His pawsteps fell lightly, pausing here and there to check for signs of one of his siblings. Sooner or later, he felt, they’d strike. He had debated about leaving the pack to directly hunt them down but… he didn’t have any idea where they were just yet. He’d have to wait until either Ashmendai gained some info or he managed to catch one of them near Dragoste once more. His ghostly eyes narrowed a little at the thought, though he did his best to not let it consume him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in a hoe in the ground. He supposed there had been the skirmish with the Vex wolves of Eclya when he was just older than two and was still a foot soldier in His holy army. The Captains had been given tanned hides to sleep on, but the rest had needed to dig their own resting quarters and many needed to share with one another. Yale had thankfully been too big to be able to accommodate anyone else but had slept in the dirt all the same. When he had been made Grand Templar he had been given a plush hide of elk skin in addition to the accommodations of his own room in the sprawling cave that had belonged to the heathen gods that once walked the earth long ago. He yawned and crawled from the den he had dug for himself, shaking the dust and clay from his fur. More than ever he wished he had had the forethought to bring his reindeer skin with him at least to line what was little more than a pit of dirt. He caught the scent of Ganta and raised his ears attentively, moving to meet him on his apparently aimless path although when he had caught up to the Primul his mind appeared to be somewhere else. “Good morrow.” He greeted, hoping his booming voice was loud enough to grab the other male’s attention. Speech,