Ankyra Sound deliverance

There was a sound of approaching footfalls through the shifting sands, detected over the gentle lull of the ocean constant as it was. It was hard for Kjalarr to believe that, for as calm as it seemed to him now, that it had taken Whittier's life, yet there was little doubt that it had. His brother bore no physical wounds that Kjalarr could immediately detect. Kjalarr's broad shoulders tensed and for a moment he did not acknowledge the wolf that had came except for a flick of an ear. A deep breath was taken — and he slowly rose to his paws, staring down at Whittier's body as he did so. Kjalarr swallowed thickly and cast a glance towards who had approached, somehow surprised and yet not to see that it was Caiaphas.

Part of him almost wished that she hadn't come. He did not want her to see him as he was now: vulnerable. The loss of a brother he had loved hit him hard, as did the knowledge that he would have to face Scimitar and break the news. Something that Kjalarr wondered if would be more upsetting because as Kjalarr was to understand it Scimitar and Whittier hadn't been on the best of terms. Whittier had been angry with Scimitar, at least. “I need to tell the Frostfurs about his death,” Kjalarr broke his silence, fixing Caiaphas in his gaze. “Neverwinter Forest isn't far, it will only take me a few days, at most to make the journey and back.”

Kjalarr looked down at Whittier's form once more with a sickened roll in his stomach, having gotten an inkling as to what would become of his brother's body. Kjalarr was hungry...and yet he would rather starve to death than eat his brother. A stranger (or enemy) was one thing — Kjalarr felt no remorse for that and would do it again in a heartbeat — but Whittier was a different matter entirely for him. He, however, could not begrudge them the meal, the nourishment. “If you will allow it I will leave soon to inform them. This news isn't something I wish to sit upon.” Besides, Kjalarr did not particularly wish to be present while they feasted upon his brother's flesh. Perhaps that would make him appear weak to them but at the moment Kjalarr's pride was dissolved and without hubris to fuel him he found that in the moment he didn't care.