With a start, the arctic wolf snapped his head up, pale eyes rheumy with sleep. What - where - he had fallen asleep? Not again... His brow furrowed grumpily, black lips drawn into a frown. He had shifted back into his comfortable Lupus form, hoping to enjoy a fast-paced hunt outside of Dahlia de Mai. He remembered the crisp air, how his every breath crystallized before his very eyes, how the dead leaves beneath his paws flew up behind him... and then what?
The shaggy male drew up to his haunches, suppressing a yawn as he looked around him. His narcolepsy hadn't been an issue since he had rediscovered his werewolf form. Apparently being a regular wolf just wasn't energy efficient, or there was something wrong with him otherwise, because when he was on all fours he just couldn't predict when his naps would ambush him. Thankfully he hadn't gotten hurt this time -- what if a stag had charged him? Sometimes it was stress or emotion that would knock him out, which was definitely unhelpful in an emergency.
Cercelee... He was supposed to be providing for his mate. Or at least, not vanishing for hours from their packland. He wasn't absolutely certain yet, but she seemed to be eating more, getting tired more easily, getting a little more emotional over things that shouldn't faze her. Had they succeeded in their endeavors...? Were they going to be parents? Slay had no idea how to tell for sure until she starting showing. And it frightened him a bit, thinking that perhaps now there would be no turning back. "...Hmph. Let future Slay deal with that," he muttered, quirking his lips into a lopsided smile. For now, he would be a hunter and nothing more. Time to sniff out some prey.