Sleeping Dragon Shackles around my wrists

As though his body was a glass door, she saw into his soul. Cirrus shuddered softly, wondering what would happen if Heda (or worse, Gyda) found out that he had hidden his true name. Lorne explained her own name, however. Cirrus could not withhold information from someone who was treating him like a real pack member. He peered about them to ensure no eavesdroppers, before admitting: “My momma gave me a different name at birth, but I’m called Storm now, because it’s easier for everyone to remember.” His voice was quiet, a whisper of admitted deceit. He did not explain when his name had been changed, so he could not be tripped up in his own lies if it came to light later. Happy with his limited admission, Cirrus did not realise he hadn’t given her his ‘real’ name.
 
She gave real thought to his question about the pack. Healing was something he wondered about happily – perhaps he could obtain knowledge from Lucani. He already knew quite a lot about basic herbs from her, and he knew he had used some of the pack’s supplies with his own wounds. Yes, that was good to offer. Gyda had been angry with him, but Heda had admitted she wished him to replenish the supplies he had used with Lucani as one of his conditions of escaping.
 
Lorne went on to offer him her assistance, should he ever need it. Cirrus’s ears fell flat against his head once more, but this time in gratitude. He didn’t know what to say, that someone would even think of risking their life to help him. Was he really worth it? Whether or not he was, he could not deny such an offer. It may come down to it at the end. “Thank you Lorne. If I can ever help you, please let me know.” His voice cracked slightly with emotion, and tears stung the edges of his eyes, as her offer tugged at his heart. “I don’t think Gyda will be pleased with even my best efforts.”
 
While her offer was wholeheartedly accepted, it occurred to Cirrus that he no longer knew whether he had anyone, or anywhere, to escape to.