Paws tread lightly on the grass that had become his home. Home. It had been a while since the wolf could have claimed a land as his home. The Woodlands of Isilme, their beautiful pillars of trees which reached toward the sky. The soft mossy loam and the smell of darkness which permeated the mystic lands, Osiris would never forget his home. He had fought for it once, and then Roanne had graciously offered him shelter within the great lands once more. Thinking of the trees with their blissful permanence being inhabited by the shadow creatures of the dead shook his heart, but there was nothing they could do. The dead had won the claim upon Isilme.

The living had been forced to leave. In a way, Osiris could understand. The bloodthirsty equids would not cease to stop their hateful ways. They would not stop fighting. They would not stop killing. Isilme, the land of the night and dawn, needed time to heal from the wounds torn into its flesh.

Now, the creature had found a family within Helovia, oddly with the same girl who stumbled upon him in a dark cave as a mere child. Ophelia, Ophelia. So beautiful and pure, yet Osiris sensed a darkness encroaching upon her heart. It did not dwell in his mind with ease, but he figured that life brings about many changes in one being. Should she ever require his assistance to wrestle her demons, he would be there. Otherwise, he would watch over her silently and await for need of his protection, a dear friend.

Now, it was not his family which needed protection but the land itself. His large, canine ears capture the sound of thundering hooves, turning his head to capture the buttermilk boy himself. A dry smirk lost of any humor appears upon the wolf's face, his body turning slowly into a lope toward the one known as Ricochet. Archibald the Dauntless and one he did not recognize arrived first, but the hybrid did not slow. Upon his back, the curled mass of black awakens to the sudden jolt of changed pace, bouncing off of the furred back with a start, catching himself on small leather wings and soaring after his bonded. Comadre.

Leave or die. Osiris arrives and looks rather surprised at Archibald, his eyes wide but he turns in time to listen to the stranger's voice as well. At least he claimed brotherhood to Archibald, though they looked nothing alike. The great wolf comes to a stop beside the large draft of black, opposite Tajheri. "No need to be so hostile," he says with a cool baritone voice, turning his eyes back toward Ricochet. A smile rests on his face.

"What do you want, brat?" the wolf snaps, wanting to know more information of his return rather than just kicking him out of the Foothills. That outcome would happen, but it was more important to discover his motives for returning. "Seeking another game of cat and mouse?"
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