It definitely, one-hundred-percent was not Azure's fault that Theron had been allowed to run away. The world was practically ending, he had new children to worry for, a sickness brewing in his mind and clouding his judgement. As far as Azure was concerned, the healthy members of the pack should be blamed for the loss of their newest slave. Was no one patrolling the borders? Azure didn't even know how long the man had been gone, but all trails had run stale. With a resigned sigh he abandoned his tracking, heading back into the territory with head hung low and wondering how much trouble he'd be in once his father found out. This was his first real assignment and he'd fucked it up. He tipped his head back to call for his father, and waited. "Speech"

The Warlord had been very sick. So much so that the days bleeded together, and he could scarcely remember the events of the last few days. He had been feverish and delusional with sickness, mushrooms hanging from his body and ooze coating his fur. When he woke this morning, the fever had broken, and the mushrooms receded. He could push himself weakly to his paws, shake out his coat, and step into the gloom of the day.

He was just enjoying his first few steps of freedom with Azure’s howl called out. With a yawn, the oozing Warlord turned in the direction of the howl, and made his way to his son and co-alpha. When he arrived, he looked the man critically over. Seeing how he was fairing in this strange disease-ridden world.