Every inch of Braegan's body ached, and ached, and ached. He had spent weeks holed up in an old badger set, ill with the worst stomach flu he'd ever heard of. It had taken his fevered mind an embarassingly long while to realize that the half-frozen deer carcass he'd been consuming whenever he could keep food down had actually been the cause of his vomiting, and even when he stopped eating from it, the roiling nausea and jumbled thoughts that accompanied him in long febrile hours didn't go away. The dreams he'd had were both his comfort and his curse; in turns he had seen beautiful rolling green hills, and waves crashing violently upon sea cliffs. A misty forest with a carpet of feather-soft grass was juxtaposed with the terror of falling into an endless hole beneath a tree's roots and finally landing hard in a dark, vast cave, an underworld to Braegan's own. The creatures that had stalked him there were tricksters, and seemed to feed off his fear, and yet their icy queen was ethereally beautiful with truly gold fur...

When at last the sickness receeded, Braegan had been greatly weakened and found himself both thinner than he recalled and unsteady on his feet. This afternoon, however, he'd found the mountain trails a bit less difficult for his dwindled form, and he'd resolved that with vigorous exercise and the determination he'd always been known for among the warriors of Loch Eoin, he would return to his usual state of health and fitness. He still couldn't quite bear the thought of real food, but he'd made do with bits of squirrel and rabbit rationed out over a few days. He felt strong enough on this evening to present himself to Muirrin, to ensure that she knew he still remained among her numbers, but no sooner had this idea occurred to him than she called to the pack at large, her howl a summons upon the quickly-cooling dusk air.

It took Braegan longer than he'd wished to come to the meeting place, both because he was as yet unfamiliar with the mountainside he called home, and because the steep incline soon left him breathless and his heart threatened to thunder out of his chest. Yet he arrived, finding himself preceded into Muirrin's presence by two ebony males, a tawny wolf, and a grey female. "I am Braegan," was his brief introduction to the pack he knew by scent alone and not by names. His accented words were raspy and felt uncomfortable on his tongue, so long it had been since he'd spoken, and he continued to pant even after bowing to Muirrin and sitting down to await the Alpha's words. Slowly, he felt his heart begin to calm itself, and his breaths became less ragged and more regular, but he was embarrassed to look so weak in front of them all, and he ducked his head to deflect attention. For once it was not only his missing eye or the scars that caused him to feel inadequate.