Ankyra Sound the mother of pearl world is just a notion

Whip thought of his family often. Particularly the ones who had passed. His father. His mother. His brothers too. They all felt so distant. As if they had only existed in times long ago, like something someone would hear in a story that's been passed down for generations. It was impersonal. It was -- it was difficult to process, even now. Especially for one as fragile as Whip. 

He had found it hardest when he took shelter from the storm. In a burrow, he slept alone. The only company he kept were his thoughts. But when the storms cleared, Whip remained in his burrow to pine for the lost. But when the matriarch called, he came. Whip arrived first, but he lingered at a distance in some odd fear of retribution for his early arrival.