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The sun begins to set through the trees sending a barrage of cascading reds and purples across the face of a tired wolf. The wind is strong enough to create ripples and waves through Mordred's midnight pelt. The forest patrol was finally over and Mordred could return to the place he belonged. Not a where as much as a who. He moved swiftly through the dense growth back to the Imperial Barracks.

Passing through the gates, he nods to the guard sitting beside them and received a dismissive grunt in return. This is why Mordred prefers the company of the firs that surrounded their base camp. Doing his best not to draw attention he takes the familiar twists and turns through narrow passages, avoiding the watchful eyes of other Imperial soldiers. A scent that he knew better than his own arrived on a subtle breeze and he knew he was close to his destination. Mordred turns the corner and finds himself face to face with the simple entryway blocked by a curtain. Pushing through, he is greeted by a recently arrived Taliesin still in the process of settling down to rest his weary paws.

"So glad you're home my love, how was your day?"

Most wolves, especially in this new environment, would've been greeted by a flinch and quick professionalism from Taliesin. But this was Mordred.

Taliesin had only arrived to their shared dwelling a few short minutes ago, and was still in the process of dragging around bedding to create a comfortable enough nest. Upon his husband's return, he quickly dropped his task, turning towards his beloved and pressing his head against his neck in a silent hug. Far from his usual tense and untrusting presence, Taliesin visibly softened with his partner around. This was his safety.

Satisfied after a minute or two of being pressed up against him, he returned to his task of arranging a cozy nest for the two of them to share, this time pawing soft pelts and leaves into place so his jaws were free for conversation. "Exhausting," he sighed, "I'm on hunting duty for now. Still not entirely sure what we're supposed to be doing here with no active combat going on. The entire draft is just..." he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He didn't want war to occur, obviously, but this odd stasis of crown-mandated chores and busywork had put him in what felt like a permanent state of anxious anticipation.