There was no raid yet. Corvus couldn't help but feel weird about the whole thing - why had Ignis warned him, and why had a messenger come, if they were going to take this long? Wasn't the whole point of the raid because they had a debt to pay, something to prove to some group they'd made a deal with? Even thinking about it made his head hurt, but dwelling on it for this long made him feel downright exhausted. The waiting sucked, and the worrying about whether or not Abaven was prepared for such an attack sucked even worse. He didn't even know if winning was in their best interest. Did Winterfell have to take something from them for this to count? Would there be witnesses?

Corvus headed a sigh, shaking his head to adjust the red bandana that lay around his neck to a more comfortable position. It was a trinket he'd fond when he was younger, the thing worn and tattered from years and years of not being used - he'd found the think buried somewhere in the dirt, so long ago now, and though he'd washed it out as best he could it had never quite come completely clean. Either way, he still liked it, and in a way now it reminded him of his youth; of being more carefree, though he'd never really been allowed the full innocent of a normal childhood. His parents had left when he was young, his sister had disappeared not long after, and so had his brother.. at least for a while. He kicked idly at a patch of upturned dirt as he walked, trekking through grasses that grew much more thickly now that the volcano's effects had mostly subsided. Maybe wandering the plains would help ease some of his restless thoughts, but then again he wasn't feeling terribly optimistic about that fact..

Desolate was on edge and the discussion with Theory over the coming raid had not helped in settling the emotional storm within him. The boy had hoped that when he matured his anger would settle, though it appeared the opposite was true. Most of the day he spent patrolling the borders hoping desperately that an intruder would show himself, someone that Desolate could rip at and tear and get out the feelings that took hold so deep. His fight with Ares hadn't been enough, he wanted and needed more. To make matters worse there was the worry within him that Abaven would no longer accept him now that he was somewhat grown. Wasn't a year of age when pups were allowed to leave? Were they ever forced to leave? Would the fact that he had no mother or father to tie him to the pack be his downfall? He didn't feel useful enough, and although he felt he'd grown attached to the alpha he would not fault her for unloading her pack of a useless asset. A new scent came to him as he walked and immediately Desolate was put on edge. He'd socialized so rarely with the others of his pack that their individual smells were still foreign to him. He crouched low into the regrowing grasses of the plains, stalking quietly towards the would-be-intruder. When he broke through the grasses he let out the beginnings of a growl before recognizing faintly the individual before him. "Oh, it's you." Desolate swallowed, looking sheepish. While he'd grown up around these wolves he still hardly knew their names. "I thought you were another intruder." "Speech" "Thinking" "You."

Restless seemed to be the Destruction man's default state lately - or hell, if he was being honest, he'd always been the restless type even from childhood - but it seemed especially palpable lately. He had no doubt that others were noticing it too, but rather than dwelling on his own uneasy thoughts he was trying to be productive. Reaching out to his fellow Abaven members to see how they were doing, or to just see if they wanted to spend time with someone; no doubt the restlessness was partly shared among his packmates.

The sound of something up ahead caught his attention, but he didn't pay much mind to it, at least initially. He trusted that Winterfell wouldn't ambush them; Ignis was his best friend, wasn't he? It was hard to imagine him deceiving him, as hard as he tried to picture it in his head. He continued moving through the thick grasses, though reeled back sharply when someone suddenly leapt out at him. The yearling wasn't immediately familiar, but after a second or two of scrutinizing he realized who he was. Corvus knew who he wasn't, despite having never interacted with him directly. Despite his shortcomings, Corvus luckily had a decent grasp of both names as well as faces.

He tried to mask the slight bit of surprise he'd felt at being lunged at, trying to force a faint smile - hoping it didn't look too feigned. "It's okay," he assured him quickly. "I don't blame you for being on edge. Kinda hard not to feel that way lately," Corvus admitted with a soft sigh. "Desolate, right?" He added, trying to start some friendly conversation in the only way he really knew how. Small talk wasn't really his thing, but trying to be friendly to his packmates was more important to him than any discomfort he might initially feel.