Dragoncrest Cliffs a hundred stories, a hundred lives

The journey back had been a quiet one, his brain still trying to work through what had happened the other night. After so long, he’d crossed paths with the Heda, as well as decided to return home with her. Well… sort of. It wasn’t really home just yet, the land entirely different from their previous. He didn’t know anything about it, didn’t know who was still there and who had gone off on their own. Was Portia still around? He had missed her terribly while away, but didn’t dare ask about her status within the pack, unable to risk hearing that she’d left. It seemed unlikely, the more he considered the possibility, but was unable to chance it nevertheless.

Hvitserk listened as she spoke, ears slicked back all the while. He understood why he wasn’t accepted back in with open arms, understood the need to prove himself, but it still felt… odd. Living on the outskirts of the pack, rather than being around everyone else seemed strange to him. Whilst he spent much of his time keeping either to himself or with Freyja as a goufa, that had been entirely by his own choice—it was different with it being an order. Still, he didn’t argue, simply nodded to show his acceptance. “Ai na nou sen klir yu daun... nodotaim,” uttered the yearling, ever so quiet. He would fix things, in due time.