The sun now shown beyond the peeks of the evergreened trees and behind the veil of thin hazy clouds. It had come to full height as they spoke at the base camp the once stranger had made beyond the pack’s borders. Heath now led the female to his once home, the loft above the horses no longer his resting place. The roof of the stables could be seen against the wintry sky, the thin layer of snow that still clung to it pillowing atop the ancient wood. Gold eyes looked at the peak, and kicked the mellow stallion into a trot, hoping to moved closer at a faster pace. Stark was not one to grow excited about anything, let alone returning to his home. But he did not protest, as always, and was guided towards the building willingly.
They had traveled at a stead pace, and Heath had watched her in the corner of his eye. The moment they had begun to ride he had started to wonder what her real purpose was, and if it was not what she had initial said it was. Even if he tried Heath could not take her as a liar, and calmed his small bout of paranoia and rode with ease. The racetrack came to view, the paddocks and herds of untended sheep lingered among the meadows. The horses would be stabled, unless another pack member had come to pasture one of their own. He saw none, taking in the empty status of the fenced areas in as well as the quiet that lingered. He wondered if the cold, or the cloudy day deterred his brethren from fetching their steeds. But the day was still young, with plenty of time for a ride left.
A dark hand ran through his chopped and ragged mane before looked back at the woman that he led into his homelands. He had lost his tongue once again on the trip, the silence settling among them.
“This is it.” he spoke as they rode closer, breaking the silence.