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

@Kierkegaard @Ephraim @Rhakios @Raleska @Illidan @Svalinn - and any grimnismal wolves are welcome if they decided to travel with the parents. set for 5/29/18.

the going had not been kind or easy on the sorry band that fled grimnismal. within hours caiaphas felt her weakened state come to fruition. within hours the children had muttered mutiny, and caiaphas had cursed the dark bear that upended their lives. kierkegaard fared no better -- their condition had declined drastically since they settled in the sound -- not because they were complacent, but because he was old as hell, and she had just given birth to four screaming, demanding children. it hadn't taken long for fatigue to set in, and for her to become aware of her stagnant body's limitations -- thus, they traveled slowly, she always looking behind them, and kierkegaard always warding his children. caiaphas had wondered briefly if all of grimnismal had made it out alive; she had not heard from lycaon,

there was a sharp pain in her neck from carrying svalinn, and her temper was high. she had been forced out of her home, the place she had planned to die in. she had no idea where they were going, but knew they would not fare well alone. at one point they had stopped at a quiet, sunmote-dappled forest long enough for their children to sleep and for her to howl for lycaon to let him know his son's location -- only to hear the low bellow of the bear in the distance.

it was not safe here; go, go, go.

miles and miles later, her paws were worn, and her pups exhausted. yet they could not rest, not when the behemoth still chased them. caiaphas was on high alert as they agreed to settle for the night; a small copse near a gurgling stream. she hoped they would be safe here, and worriedly she paced the brook up and down with her ears strained and exhausted eyes trained towards the west, as if grimnismal would be safe any minute now, and she and her children could go home.

Hmmm. Nope. Raleska was not enjoying this little family excursion; not really a small surprise, for what child did enjoy upheaval, skipped naps, skipped breakfasts, and being forced to do stuff they didn't want to do?

So, she trudged along with a scowl, entertaining ideas of massive mutiny, ideas of seeing her cruel parents suddenly keel over and die (disproportionate to the offense, I know, but she was a kid, and kids are immature by proxy, so she thought this was justified) . Maybe if she was lucky a bolt of lightning would fall from the sky and obliterate both of her obnoxiously bothersome parents so she could go back home. It didn't even occur to her if she went back home sans said parents, she'd probably make a nice pupperoni snack for a bear.

Not that Raleska knew what a bear was, other than an egregiously offensive inconvenience to her and her comfortable lifestyle. Already ultramiffed, when it came time to rest Raleska delivered her parents the shittiest look she could muster before her eyelids fluttered, suddenly heavy with exhaustion; all plans of puppy-revolt were suddenly halted as Raleska slipped, no, plundered into a heavy and dreamless sleep.

As grumpy as his sister was, Illidan was ten times angrier that they had left the grotto and had ventured out – miles beyond their home – in search of… what?. As they continued on their trek, the young ghost scowled angrily at his mother’s rear end. Even the companionship of his siblings did not prove to be worth the trouble. All he wanted was to return home and snuggle up against the warmth of his family to nap. The fire that burned in his hawkish yellow gaze was enough to scorch the earth that they travelled across. What was left to do but to pout? What more could there be but the deep seething frustrating that a young growing pup felt?
 
“Ma… where going?” he demanded in a sharp tone. With an exasperated humph, Illidan plopped down on his ass and whined. Even still, the boy looked to his sister for support. Surely, Raleska wasn’t enjoying their adventure, or the change in scenery. He missed the beach and the soft plodding of sand beneath his paws. What could there possibly have been that would cause them to uproot a perfectly good home? The mountains that stretched out before him were not appealing at all. He was tired, and he wanted to sleep; his paws could not carry him further.

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.

caiaphas watched her children, road-tired and weary -- they hadn't deserved to be so abruptly upended, and she felt sorry for them. ephraim, rhakios and raleska had nearly instantly collapsed and fell asleep, yet illidan fought off exhaustion's creeping advances long enough to inquire as to where they were going.

where were they going? caiaphas didn't know -- inland, somewhere. somewhere far away from the ruins of grimnismal and the rough beast that had staked claim over it.

she swept towards the boy and licked his forehead softly. "somewhere safe, darling." she crooned, pulling him close to her as kierkegaard offered to take svalinn. caiaphas frowned as she watched her mate shoulder her son's burden -- where was he? why hadn't he shown up after the howls?

all of this thinking was too much for the matriarch, who was just as tired as the company she kept. she nudged her mate affectionately and then, if no other noise was made, she too would follow in fitful sleep.

Being carried, and having his protests stifled by the bludgeoning scent of fear made Svalinn quiet. He was jostled and swinging, snatched at by gale after gale of unkind wind. He was stiff by the time they'd come to rest, but the disabled whelp quickly found his voice when Kierkegaard's rumbling warmth took over him. Milk! Milk! he began to squeak, his misused cry nothing but a demanding whisper. He began to squirm, feeling bold and invigorated by what he thought was time to feed. Kierkegaard did not carry the heavenly milkscent with him, but it was near— he could tell!— and he worm-wriggled his way towards it in what could be considered the world's slowest hunt.