The Sentinels i like gypsy moths and radio talk

tachyon remained in a pathetic huddle, his gaze refusing to meet the wolf that first greeted him out of shame. emaleth. the shadow-cast youth was alarmed, but tachyon afforded a small smile when he heard how properly she addressed him. "well enough," he tried to smile encouragingly, though his facade seemed to crumble when her sibling came upon the scene. it did him great harm to witness the worry in deirdre's expression; the panic in her gaze -- tachyon wanted to sink into the ground then and disappear forever. he tried to extend his muzzle in a soft kiss as she fussed over him, though he still felt weak from his endeavors. "it won't hurt." he assured her, though it was a bald-faced lie. when lasher followed he felt his shame sting him anew and he cast his head to the ground in compunction, knowing what was about to be told would likely cause a rift in the alpha's heart. "i found her..." he didn't elaborate, for he knew lasher would know -- "but she is captive. i tried to bring her back here but was attacked." he groaned as he shifted his leg, his ears cast to the side of his skull in defeat. "it was my fault.. i let you down and let my foolish temptations get in the way of my true family." he looked in every way like some sodden, beaten dog: "i'm sorry."