Jade Fern Grove home is wherever I'm with you · land claim

Since his conversation with Kaskara, the boy had gone in to a state of contemplation that drove a wedge between himself and the others - or rather, created a greater divide. He stayed within the perimeter of what would be their new home, lingered in their company in the barest sense, and tried his best to make up his mind. A part of Tryphon had already come to the conclusion that he could not leave the Nova wolves (or the Jade Fern wolves, which they had yet to become, for him). He was still filled with the fear of losing these beings, even though the young man wasn't close to any particular individual; he wasn't a strong member of the pack, or even a well liked one.

When the voice of Scimitar lifted upon the wind, it made Tryphon freeze and listen. His mind reeled with the possibilities that the future would hold, both inside and outside of the pack. As each wolf raised their voice to match their leader, scattered like stars across the verdant forest, Tryphon was caught in a moment of awe. None of them knew what lay in store - this could all end in ruin, the way the Nova lands had been destroyed; they could die within hours of this formation and leave nothing behind; or worse, but Tryphon could not fathom anything worse than their demise. To be left on his own again - different from a self imposed isolation - made him feel an acute sting in his chest.

One of the last voices to pop up was one he did recognize, or he thought he did. He thought he heard Kaskara's song drifting around nearby - and this reminded him of the possible role he had within the pack. He could have a future here if only he worked for it; Tryphon listened as the howls began to die down, and in a panic, raised his own voice --

And he felt a sting in his head as the sound of his deep song rose from his throat. With a wince and a stagger, the young man seemed to recoil as if struck by something, but there was nothing around him but the green of the trees. His voice caught in his throat in that instant, and as he licked his lips, as he composed himself, confusion reigned. The voice that came from him hadn't been his - it was familiar, and that familiarity struck a chord. It brought images of the mountains to his mind, as if searing their silhouette in to his memory.

Was it another episode? Another moment of lost time, struggling to overtake him? He wouldn't let that happen - no, Tryphon had made his choice. He tried to stay composed. Lifting his head again, the song that poured out of him was decidedly different: I am here, we are here, this is home.

The mountains had been left behind, of no importance now.