Hideaway Strath where secrets lie in the border fires

Even he, the son of a king and noble-blooded knight of the realm, was exhausted when they finally came to their new home. The journey had worn him down in unforseeable ways, but enriched him as well: Pendragon held a strong belief in Arturo's people now, that they were indeed hardy and strong individuals. They had coveted their previous home and were loath to leave it, but the journey together proved their inescapable fortitude. He was glad to know them and proud to be serving them.

But he was still tired. Not even the Snaketail had been such an arduous task (this being a massive crack in a segment of his home island, a crevice that children often played upon foolishly and upon which knights honed their skills). He found his mind flitting between a zombie-like level of exhaustion and the briefest flurries of memory, and thus the man held a dumb smile as he crossed in to the strath's heartland alongside the others. At first he was too distracted to realize they had made it; but then as each wolf craned their head and sang, he felt his spirit lift and a sense of anticipatory glee fill him in entirety.

Although he is still so foreign to them, Pendragon casts his head back and joins in to the song — he asks the wind to carry the message over the fields and to the crashing sea where he knows his family is worrying — he proclaims himself one with the wolves of Teaghlaigh, and vows in this primal moment to become something great among them.