somewhere along the way, zephyr lost himself. it's easy to see now, alone in a way that's all too familiar and bound to a situation he'd sworn to himself that he would never allow. his body rebels, and his mind languishes; dulled from what had once been a razor's edge, no longer disconnected and floating far above the mundane dramas of mortal life. his forgotten gods are silent, and he has lost the clarity that once made the world seem so vast and beautiful.
somewhere along the way, zephyr caged himself.
he patrols the border of the cliff pack with these thoughts weighing heavy on his shoulders, a chorus of dread set over the symphony of the sea that has become a constant companion. he tries to remember what came before the isolation he'd left behind for duskfire glacier. the attempt brings a deep ache to his skull, but that does little to deter his efforts. there are some things he recalls... but not enough. he knows he'd worshipped gods, once; he knows he'd led a pack; he knows he'd loved many wolves, and that love had hurt him more than anything in the world.
the knowledge is a weeping wound, and it begs to be picked at, dug through, opened up in its entirety. he is determined to see it done.