The rainy trip from the Taiga to Drageda's borders is just long enough for Étoille to start to think. He's holding onto his confidence that heda will allow the boy to stay -- when has he asked for anything, after all. But there are the other children and certainly that carries a degree of protectiveness with it (hell, he feels it too.) And Furi had left, and though he is not familiar with the concept of natrona he has the sense that Drageda does not think kindly of leaving, especially like that, with no warning. 

Still. The situation is the situation. The boy will die if not helped, and Étoille simply cannot stand for that. So he quietly carries him until they reach the border, and then gently places him down. "This is Drageda," he tells him, "and my name is Étoille." He does not press for the boy's name yet -- he does not seem to be up to talking much at the moment, and more pressing is getting him somewhere dry and a decent meal, in his opinion. With that the titan lifts his head and calls for @Thuringwethil.

He is not expecting the boy to name himself, but he accepts it easily. Ephraim. Heda arrives quickly -- Étoille straightens and lowers his head respectfully, feeling a twinge of something close to nervousness. "I discovered the child lost in the rain," he explains, jumping right to the point. "He does not know where his family is. In his condition, I feared leaving him alone would spell his death." He does not know, of course, of the boy's origins, the irony in his winding up so close to his birth home, born of their enemies. All that matters is the now to him. "I will see to his health and wellbeing," Étoille adds, putting to words what he assumes is obvious just to be safe. There is, of course, a question underlying: will heda allow Ephraim to stay (or will Étoille face reprimand for bringing him here, even if he does stay). All he can do is wait for her answer, taking a step closer to the boy somewhat protectively.

Grateful, the steltrona dips his head. Hopefully once Ephraim is returned to optimal health they can see about finding his family -- but if for some reason that isn't a possibility, Étoille is good for his word, and he will raise him as a part of Drageda. And in the meantime there are plenty of other children for him to socialize with -- les petits are about his age, no? 

He doesn't answer for Ephraim, giving him the space to speak for himself (but ready to step in and answer for him if he's too exhausted). Instead he contemplates the medics -- Portia has a litter of her own now, he knows, and he's unsure if she'll take kindly to him bringing a strange child to her.. but on the other hand, she has experience with children. Does Rose as well? He actually doesn't know. Hm. "Portia," he decides after a fashion -- if she turns them down they can find Rose after. He lowers himself to murmur to Ephraim, "I am going to pick you up again," mostly for the sake of saving time, and goes to gently lift the boy by the scruff again and make for Portia's den with heda.

For a moment he doesn't process heda's introduction. How many months has it been, after all, with him giving up on ever learning her name? But here it is, not even for him but for his ward. Thuringwethil. Four syllables and his worldview shifts, just slightly.

He does not have time to dwell on it as they move towards Portia's den, though he is clearly distracted when the woman first greets them. Gathering himself he gently deposits the boy, nudging him to go to the medic, and explains, "this is Ephraim. I found him lost in the rain -- I believe he needs to be looked over." He pauses, then shuffles his feet, a little awkward, and adds: "Apologies for the sudden intrusion." She doesn't look put off by Ephraim's presence, which he takes as a good sign... but nonetheless.

Thuringwethil. He was never going to get that name right. Fortunately, the dark-haired woman had something of a moniker that was far easier for him to repeat: "Heda." It would be some time before he came to know the significance of her title and comprehend it. That she led more than just this pack with that name was a grand thing beyond the understanding of a pup his age, who came from a culture very unlike Drageda's. For now it was just a name that he would know her by, like Étoille, who hadn't known her true one until just then.

They came to a place that smelled of milk and warm bodies. Ephraim was whisked away into his memories for a spell, remembering a time when his world had been a soft blue glow with the same scent around him. That was before bears and foxes and storms showed him what a frightening place the world could be. Stationed outside the den entrance was a woman whose colourless fur was patched with black and his soft yellow eyes met her green ones for just an instant. Her voice was soft and comforting, perhaps the first truly soft sound he had ever heard in a woman's voice—both Caiaphas and Thuringwethil possessed a quality that was stern even when gentle, the mark of leadership—and it sent a tingle up his spine.

Heda (Thuringwethil? No, it's too weird) takes her leave, and Étoille shoots her a grateful look before turning his attention fully to the medics, too focused on Ephraim to pay much attention to the presence of the infant. It is easy to relinquish control to Portia although he stays close as a comforting presence, shaking his head non at her question -- he hasn't had the chance -- watching Dalia go to retrieve whatever it is that Portia has prescribed. With little else to do Étoille settles down, waiting for either further instruction to assist or to take Ephraim to Hougeda to rest when Portia and Dalia are done with him, quietly grateful for the ease in which he has been accepted into everyone's lives thus far.