[P] Things will look better in the morning

[Parzival]

There's magic in our bones - A north star in our soul - That remembers our way home 

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OOC: stuff here

Parzival didn't tire of contact with canine, however part of his more wild instinct did find spending a great deal of time around them to be somewhat draining, simply the fact that as a big cat he was required to always present himself in a way that wasn't going to scare anyone or ruin their day. It was a very Cavalier thing to do however Parzival had been rewarded for his effort at the Stockshow by the fulfillment of entertainment as well as his stomach. It was a good week spent away from home, yet as he got back home Parzival then had the itch to just be on his own. Be more wild and free for a while before returning to his usual work. He could just hunt on his own however funnily enough the lion still craved company. Just... the right kind of company. 

It was then he thought of the Court of Fangs, having not visited for a while, now quite determined to check on how his feral friends were fairing in this late summer. Hopefully they were fine, Parzival was confident in Oberyn as a leader and knew their wilder style of living was sustainable in the right paws, however the cat was prepared to offer assistance if needed. Perhaps a bit of hunting with them, or for them, would suffice. More of that Cavalier generocity. 

He didn't really voice it out loud but Parzival really liked the Court. Not just because he felt he had a greater understanding for their way of life but also because the group felt like a friendship Parzival had earned all on his own. His friends and family in Casa respected Parzival because they'd known him as a Cavalier and therefore knew he was like them. Oberyn had taken convincing, and Parzival was proud to have swayed the wolf into trust. 

Finding a trail that he was confident had been worn down by the Fang, Parzival began his trot deep into their usual turf, keen ears listening out for anyone nearby. 

[Oberyn Haskel]

Though Harley had yet to return, newcomers managed to find the Court of Fangs. Maskwa had been the first of these new arrivals, though he had been with them for months now. Whimsy was an unexpected find, but despite her ramblings and age, likeable enough. That poor girl they had found seemed uncertain of herself, but Oberyn hoped she might remain. His son seemed to have taken a shine to her, in any case.

He had noticed that Makwaikwe was sticking closer to their main den-site, though thought nothing strange of this. She was likely keeping an eye on Whimsy, though the old woman didn't seem like she needed much help getting around. They had been wearing down trails over the months and with autumn coming everyone seemed focused on preparing. While they did not keep caches in the same way as their more “civilized” neighbors, many of the Fangs would bring back excess food to share with the others.

On one of his regular routes, Oberyn loped along at a steady pace. He had been carrying on for some time and allowing his mind to work – he did some of his best thinking while out on the trail – and didn't realize he was being followed at first. The feeling came gradually, like a sixth sense. By the time he fully stopped, Oberyn was consciously looking for the disturbance.

Even with his brightly colored bandanna, Parzival was able to blend into the underbrush. This was one advantage cats had – they were so damn quiet.

Oberyn woofed to alert the cougar to his presence. Even if he hadn't quite spotted him yet, he could now smell the powerful feline. “It's been some time,” the wolfdog called out.