The Sentinels recurve

Gone. Long gone.

The boy prowls closer in the background, arriving just in time -- just within earshot -- to hear the fate of his family. Gone. Long gone. Isengrim swallows stiffly, casting his eyes out to where the water churns and back again to the cousins before him. He knew that the sea had called his parents home, he had known it when they left all those months ago. Yet, it does nothing to settle the ache within him the premature kismet his parents succumbed to, brings. That is a fresh wound, unable to scar over whilst he lingers on the banks of their former home.

Steadily, the boy travels further towards the duo, coming to a halt only a foot away from Moorhen, yet far enough away from the yearling he identifies as a relative of his. It is likely they grew up in the Depths around the same time, yet, Isengrim can do little to recall the other boy -- both as a child or a man. Looking to his sister, he snorts in the direction of the other, beckoning an answer to the name -- the identity -- of the pale-strike man.

A Cairn, he thinks with a crooked, devilish grin; tail swishing ever so slightly as the mere idea of reunion passes through his mind. In a way, as far-fetched as it is, perhaps the rejoining of the Cairn clan would be the thing to bring Julep home -- something he yearned for more than food in his stomach or air in his lungs.