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The silver-furred hybrid's border patrols had decreased, though her vigilance had not decreased any for it. There was still danger lurking out there somewhere, though the hybrid had heard nothing of Haku Soul lately. He was lurking there somewhere, waiting—for what? The coyote woman did not know. There was nothing on the wind or the lips of others, and those two combined were a powerful force within the land. Little passed unnoticed because of it, and the ashen hybrid was certain someone would have mentioned more drama surrounding the dark-furred man. He was a wanted creature now, she was certain—there were probably a few wolves in Dahlia de Mai none too happy with the danger he'd put them all in, and the silver-furred coyote was sure Inferni was not the group that wanted his blood.

There was a call at the borders, and the hybrid woman paused, struck by the strange, silvery tones echoing from the clan's perimeter. They were unidentifiable—beyond their youth the coyote could discern almost nothing from the alien call. Changing her path immediately, the coyote sped up the the howl, since she had identified it as a puppy, and because the clan had been conspicuously free of joiners lately. The silver-furred coyote followed after the scent once she had identified it, trotting along with her nose to the ground, her yellow-golden eye searching for this newcomer. When she saw him, a faint smile tugged at her muzzle, and she stepped toward him with her head inclined, yellow-golden eye looking him over. He was very young, she thought—definitely some kind of hybrid, but she did not know which kind. There was no question he carried coyote in him, but beyond that, things were murky.

“You look a little young to be out here alone,” she said, settling down to her haunches in front of the canine.

There was something intensely strange and also alluring about the youth; the hybrid still could not figure out his percentage, despite mulling over it in these moments. He was small, and she mistook that for youth—the hybrid did not think that the coyote hybrid before her was a full seven months old. She would have said five or even four months at best—the coyote woman had never seen a jackal before, not to her knowledge anyway. She could not identify that aspect of his heritage, but at his words, her good eyebrow shot up, and the look upon her face changed, warming infinitely—though it had already been quite warm, as she was always sweet to puppies.

“Then you know who I am,” she responded, knowing Samael would have described her down to every last nick in her fur if he had contact with this youth. He knew the star—that was enough for her. “And you know what this place is,” the coyote said, slowly. He was older than Samael's absences, so his existence did not entirely explain the red-eyed man's disappearance. “Where is your father?” the hybrid woman queried, vague worry crossing her face. He had disappeared in the midst of a crisis, and though the coyote knew his ties to Inferni changed on his whim, she had worried that something worse had happened.

The silver-furred coyote was fascinated with those one—he was the picture of youth, just old enough to have been made before Samael's departure, she thought. The height of war had brought passion and furthered the insanity lingering in the scarred man's mind, and it had broken whatever tether he still had with sanity. The coyote woman almost understood, but sadness was still apparent in her grayscale features. He had left her—though all was forgiven for the presence of this youth, he had left her nonetheless. Her ears and tail drooped, and she offered the youth a sad smile. “He is well?” she asked, glad to hear he was not dead—with Haku, anything was possible.

“What is your name?” the hybrid inquired. He knew hers—there was no doubt about that. Standing, the hybrid tilted her head to indicate the interior of the clan's territory. “Come on,” she said. There was no need to interrogate him like any other old joiner—he was a Lykoi, this was where he belonged.