The philodox gives a brief smile, seemingly having heard what he had hoped to hear but said nothing.
At the latter question however, Zas squats down and runs his hands through some loose soil as he considers his answer.
He scoops a little dirt into his hand and forms a fist and then begins to let it slowly fall back to the ground, the wind catching some of the dirt and scattering it into the nearby area. The Silent Strider watches it silently vanish but still remains quiet.
There is a long moment of silence before he speaks. "Everything changes. This is what Gaia intended. The weaver is the one who longs for stasis. Change is good."
He looks up to Kefka, "We are coyote's children. We become what we must to do what needs to be done."
The Philodox turns back to look out to the horizon, "I feel that we are returning to our roots. A tree will grow if the roots are deep and strong and well watered. It will die and rot from within if its base and core is left un-nurtured. We as a pack are this tree. When we left Zavala, we felt that we needed to grow tall-so we followed Rends. When we were in Galveston, we felt that we had over reached our height and could not support our weight. You took on the responsibility of pruning us and trimming us down to find new growth. Now, in San Marcos we learned that after your pruning, light was able to shine on our roots. We all saw that in order to grow, these roots needed to deepen and grow stronger. Once this happens, our tree can reach new heights."
He looks back to Mocks, "It is my hope that by seeing and doing things the way of the Dine that our pack can be brought to balance."