Ankyra Sound you were swept ashore like bottles holding prayers

ingram's gaze ran up the long side of a sequoia -- a tree which whose width and height seemed to breach even the heavens. his gaze slowly ran earthbound, and he looked at his unsure brother with equal lack of temerity. ever the pragmatist (and arguably smarter of the duo) lycaon suggested some sort of sign to mark their passing.

"you're right," ingram affirmed with a nod of his slender muzzle. he picked up a trot and swung to the grotto, a scant few feet away. without ceremony he hiked his hip upwards and began to urinate a weak yellow stream of liquid outpouring from under his hood. this is what lycaon meant, right?

i mean, it's not as if ingram could spell -- and even if wolves could spell well enough to shape a rudimentary spelling of 'w-y-l-l-a' on the strand, it was arguable whether or not ingram would have ever mastered spelling anyway. he was probably the kid that was held back in third grade a few times, or four -- and destined to be a deadbeat.