Blackwater Islands oh, death

Joining -- @Akantha

He had skirted blatantly away from the sequoias of his previous home – the swarthy wolf a shadow among the night as he felt his lungs burn from what he imagined was the lingering scent of death and ash from Donnelaith.  Perhaps it was all in his head – he didn’t care. The moment his bright eyes had laid upon the charred land he had searched desperately for his sisters.. and there had been nothing left. No sign of Deirdre. No sign of Emaleth. He had scoured the lands around it – searching desperately for their scent to and any indication they had made it out alive.
 
Nothing.
 
He had left – questioned others if they had seen the witches of the forest.. None had.
 
And then he had mourned their deaths by completely shutting himself down.
 
A wraith now, the stocky wolf prowled to the borders of another ocean pack – somehow allowing him to be close to home without being there to remind him of his failure to fulfill his promise to them. His inability to protect his family. His features, once laid back and even good-natured remained hardened – and shifting his dark weight upon the borders of a pack he was unfamiliar with, the Mayfair determined this was as good as any place to check out.. for now, at least.
 
He did not call for them. Instead, the rogue swept himself low – he deserved nothing else. His form waited – sphinx-like in his posture now as his belly swept to the earth, his eyes straight before him. He waited for them to discover him – he clung to hope that even despite not recognizing the scents on their borders, that his sisters had moved further along the coast to here.
 
That Donnelaith burning had been nothing more but a nightmare.