The territory feels almost empty to him. It's not just the decimation of their numbers, sparseness of the underbrush, or the fact that he's but a Kestrel, and can name every Royal, Spectre, and Shrike-- and not only because one of those was done away with. Kitkun is a keen eye-- always has been, and now, the Monarchy needs those more than ever before.
He spends more time in the Third Ring than he ever thought he would, seated in the shadow of a tree and watching packmates as they pass through. Kitkun plays a sort of game in his head, guessing who belongs to what rank, and deducing correctly more often than not. Granted, there aren't many choices, or many rounds to play.
Somehow, it still catches him off-guard to see the Sabor himself, in the flesh. He's likely younger than the Kestrel, and Sincate younger than that, but that's a secret he intends to keep. Besides, the age that he is, Kitkun has seen enough of Saboro to know change is exactly what they need.