Stone Circle I'm setting fire to my lungs

Trekking across the taiga took the better part of a week, time that Ephraim spent largely inside his own head. He emerged from his thoughts to hunt at dusk and dawn and to seek shelter for himself, but otherwise the miles seemed to melt under his troubled paws without his notice. Sometimes he looked up and marked the passage of the days, or the change in scenery as he headed further away from the sea. Mostly he noticed when the salt smell, so prevalent in his life thus far, gave way to something colder and more lifeless.

Leaving Elysium without so much as a word wasn't difficult, or at least not as difficult as he thought it would be. Leaving Drageda had been much harder, and even now he seemed to mourn the family on the coast that he couldn't know more than he grieved for the little sanctuary in the mountains. He seemed to have left behind his ability to form lasting attachments to comrades when he left the cliffs. Heading this far inland ensured he was unlikely to see any of them again, anyway, so what was there to care about?

Having been a pack wolf from the day he was born, however, a lone Ephraim wasn't happy for long. The relief that came with leaving the coastline behind was quickly overwhelmed by the fear that came on solitary nights and the loneliness of wandering with no companions at his side. Before long he grew weary of it and found himself seeking company, and not long after that, the thin Eyjolfur found Easthollow's borders. As with everything else from his past, Ephraim's memory of this place was blocked by a haze that thundered and lit up the sky. Maybe he would have kept walking if he remembered it at all.

But he didn't, so instead he tossed his wedged head back and gave a desperate yipped cry.

With the birth of her new siblings, Ira had been keeping a tight watch on the borders. That's why when the short yips went up, the stranger would only have a short wait until the mountain wolf emerged, eyes scanning until they met the form of the coywolf. She assessed the visitor's condition and determining he was no threat, addressed him. You stand at the borders of Easthollow, what might be the reason for your call? She held herself tall despite already towering over the man, one could never be too careful, especially now.

It wasn't long before someone came to meet him. Ira stuck Ephraim immediately as an ideal Dragedan warrior: intimidatingly tall, trim with lean muscle, a little robust in the face despite her thin limbs, and full of confidence. In comparison, he was not only tiny, but anxious and frightened before her arrival. Even before she began to speak, Ephraim shrunk downward, letting his tall ears fall shyly back.

Easthollow. The name of the pack didn't jog his memory. He recalled only snatches of his early childhood, nothing more distinct than distant familiarity when he encountered something from that time, and almost everything between leaving Ankyra Sound and going to Hougeda with Heda and her children was blacked out. That included their unsuccessful attempt to find safety with this pack. Sharp words might have met Ira if he could remember even the faintest thing, for that had been the catalyst of everything that followed, but he couldn't.

I... he faltered, licked his lips nervously, and said, I need a home.

whoops sorry for the wait I forgot I had a joining thread

The male cowered back, but was quick to reply, although his response caused her head to tilt. Are you so willing to just jump into the first home you find? It was odd that the man only raised his quest, however, if he had heard of their pack then it would make sense. There have been wolves before that sought out Easthollow specifically because of their lifestyle. Then again, perhaps she gave him too much credit. What skills might you have to aid us? Everyone must pull their own weight here if you are to join.

The point that Ira made caused Ephraim to flinch a little. She was right, of course. It was idiotic to go throwing himself at the first place he found away from the sea, but he didn't see any other options. He wouldn't starve on his own, but it wouldn't exactly be a comfortable existence either. Then again, it wasn't like his life thus far had been cozy in any sense of the word. There'd been a brief period at Trigeda and then at Drageda where things felt safe, but before that was a void in his memory and after that was nothing but terror.

I... the coywolf faltered, trying to swallow past the large lump that formed in his throat. Ira wanted to know his skills, and all the voice in his head was saying was that he didn't have any. He was a trained warrior of Drageda, but that counted for nothing in the end. He was a naturalist who was afraid of storms, and he was a boat without a moor.

I'm sorry, he said, frowning at the words that spilled unbidden from his lips, I can't. And just like that he turned and went. This wasn't far enough. Nowhere would ever be far enough.