@ironforged (wylla manderly). near the encampment of the northern houses, night.
Theron had admittedly not been prepared for events to take such a dramatic turn as they had. It seemed that one moment, they had all been enveloped in festivities; the next, the city had been draped in mourning. He could not quite decide whether it made things more interesting, or even less appealing, though he did know one thing for certain: it spelt danger for everyone.
He had seated himself by one of the roaring campfires, considering his thoughts as sparks flew into the sky, when a glint of platinum hair had caught his eye. He knew immediately who it was, and stood without thinking of it to follow, his long legs quickly catching up to the liege's stride.
"Wylla," he called, a certain tension to it. Despite the fact that they had all been camped so close together, he had hardly had an opportunity to speak to them, and so he availed himself of it now. "You ought not be walking around by yourself at this hour." He knew very well that they were more than capable of taking care of themselves, and yet he still felt a protective instinct. "Are you well?" He paused, and then added, a bit more hesitantly. "And the boys?"
