Phoenix Maplewood my flesh and soul are still at war

Time was something of a lost concept to Mercury as he had traveled, keeping track of the month by his age. He would be a year old in a small handful of days, but if not for the release from childhood that it would bring, though he would be a yearling until the following May — not yet a man but not a boy. The search for his father, for his blood father, Crete DiSarinno had not been made in vain, for Mercury had found him and had ran with Flightless Falcons for a while; though not after seeking out Odinn's Cove and running with the Vikings, under the leadership of Ragnar's younger brother Vali. Mercury could not place his desire to go to his adoptive father's home pack, and when he'd gotten there he'd realized starkly that he did not belong there; though this came as no real surprise to him. He had never been Ragnar's favorite, never really taken to the Viking ways, and learning the truth of his birth from his mother had been a betrayal, but also a crude awakening. It had all made sense to him then.

Yet, even Flightless Falcons was unable to hold him. Still, he felt the call of the Teekon Wilds, drawing him away from his mute father and numerous family members, all of which were welcoming enough to him. He had ran with many, all of different veins, experienced firsthand the cruelties of the world, though the first strike had struck true by the lie Thistle and Ragnar had told him and his siblings. As if it would never come about, as if it was something that could so easily be forgiven. Perhaps for Gyda and Gunner it was easily forgiven, but not for Mercury. They could pass as Ragnar's biological children but he was the literal black sheep. 

Thoughts were deftly tucked away as he crossed the threshold back into the Wilds, inhaling deeply, drawing in the familiar scent pushing forward. Whether he would stay or return to his nomadic pacing he could not be certain, but he had business here and regardless could not leave until he saw it resolved. Mercury's surroundings were not easily recognized, and in his absence he had forgotten the precise layout of the Wilds, some territories clearer to him than others. The Maplewood he walked through gave him a distinct feeling of nostalgia to a territory in the Seahawk Valley, though the DiSarinno was confident that he was back in the Teekon Wilds. Still, he moved quickly, with purpose Southbound, though he moved with caution, nevertheless.