Emberflame Ridge you and i have come way too far to give up in seventeen minutes

The miles had started to fade, as had his spirit. The more that they travelled across the stretch of land and earth, the more he was beginning to feel himself slip into a state of trance-like steps. Unknowing of her thoughts and wishes, it was almost convenient how close to death he was, when his daughter hoped it to be true. Still, he trudged on as though it was all that his body knew to do. Each step was tiring on him; each mile that passed them by was enough to cripple him, but the ghost knew little of how to stop once they had started. He knew that his family needed a home. He knew that his children needed a place where they would be safe from the harms of the world and where his mate could tend to them without fretting for their wellbeing.

Kierkegaard looked to her back with a haggard expression. She looked nearly as tired as he felt, and she had been carrying the young boy in her thin muzzle for most of their trip. With a few hurried steps, he drew up to her side and nudged lightly against her shoulder. “Let me take the boy for a while,” he offered her in a gravelly tone. The sound of Illidan’s complaint was met with a sharp swinging of his skull and the narrowing of his eyes on the hooded boy.