The Sentinels my heartbeat could tell you it's urgent

loss and hunger had hardened lasher, against his will. his body had thinned and haggardness had settled onto him as if it were some ashen, ugly veil. he found himself strident, irritable, emotional; the hacking cough lingered, as did unshed tears of dread and of frustration.

malachi's howl came at one such time, and ire boiled in lasher at the sound of it. the man had stayed at the very fringes of the blacktail pack; he had never participated. and his time with them had been scarce, unremarkable. now he sought a home in their midst, lasher assumed -- his stride lengthened and it was with anger that he came upon his son and his daughter greeting the prodigal.

"you left us when we needed you most," the druid growled in a dark tone quite unlike him; but he could not help it! the rage and pain of the past month had tolled the man until he had twisted into a shell of himself.