Redhawk Caldera you never feel the jet lag unless you're trying to fit in.

Staying within the borders of a strange pack did not sit well with Artaax. It was uncomfortable to be amongst unfamiliar wolves in an unfamiliar place, family though they may be. The boy did his best to avoid those strange wolves by lingering at the den where they kept his mother while she healed. It couldn't exactly be helped when one of the Caldera wolves came to visit, which happened often. In those times, he slipped away and out of sight whenever he could manage it. But always, he lurked near her, quiet and watchful.

And horribly ashamed.

Now was one of those moments. The female alpha of the Caldera wolves had come to see his mother and Artaax had crept off. He felt judgment over his behavior that day from every pair of eyes that looked at him. Imagined or not, it was all he could think about when they were near, and it made him sick to think of the panic attack that had consumed him. His stomach was twisting in knots as he moved silently along the banks of the little creek that flowed a hundred yards or so away from the den. He gazed at his paws as he walked, having never felt so miserable in all his life, and feeling even worse from guilt at feeling this way at all when he should be happy over Wildfire.