Although he had no idea the full depths of the ways that Avon had fractured during the months he'd been away, he'd heard enough of it while he'd been trying to find some willow or pine bark to help with Fable's paws. The injuries were minimal in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't bad enough that she hadn't joined their journey up to Northfall. He saw so many wolves - wolves and packs he'd never even heard of. It felt natural to keep close to Fable and the puppies, trying to help lend a paw in keeping them in eyesight. He kept an eye on them while they fought in their little puppy squabbles, and he saw when Fable had slid into the fray to help guide Lylith away from her opponent.

During a lull, Foxglvoe explored a bit. There were wolves chatting and eating all over, some arguing about the matches and others regaling tales of Ragnar and the legacy that he had forged. Foxglove didn't think he'd met any of the wolves of Northfall before, but they seemed a fine group. He didn't know about their own drama, having heard the same announcement about murder. He instantly met Fable's gaze, as if to say well, damn! Hopefully the children hadn't been paying much attention - they would have had so many more questions too, wouldn't they?

He sniffled along the offerings of Northfall, called immediately to the fermented fruit. He took a healthy amount for himself, he wasn't huge - and he needed to at least try to keep his wits about him after all.