Ankyra Sound lieder und gesänge

There had never been a more tired and haggard creature than Kierkegaard – at least, not on those shores. His limbs quivered with each step that he took from the grotto and into open pack terrain. The sun was quick to light his jagged ashen fur in light, and he blinked against the harshness of the rays. Since his return to Grimnismal, the ghost had not left the confines of the grotto and its protective darkness. Caiaphas and her growing belly had been his company, but he had preferred it to anything else the others would have offered him. The silence had been far more appreciated than the companionship of the other pack members.

The trees stood out against the rocky background. On slow and struggled steps, the haggard creature limped his way toward it. Close ahead, there was the shape of a familiar figure, but as the wraith drew closer, he found that it was not Wylla but an unnamed male. Stiffening at the scent of this brute, Kierkegaard clenched his jaw tightly and continued to limp toward the trees without another word.