Ankyra Sound you were swept ashore like bottles holding prayers

his own reservations scotched Ingram's initial gung-ho approach to barging into an--at this point--unfamiliar forest. Lycaon hadn't tracked the spoor of deer through that eldritch forest in what felt like centuries. he didn't know those moss-covered stones, or the name of the wolverines in their hoults, or the ideal place to watch the ashes of the night transform into burning embers of daylight.

he remembered, mostly, places where he cried--and he didn't very much care to revisit such wretched crooks. 

Lycaon paused to muse on his brother's reply, brow furrowing as he tried with all his might to think of something that would be a better exploratory investment, you know, for their mortal souls... "to catch a Wylla, you have to think like a Wylla." he said with a sage nod, taking his gaze from the uninviting maw of the forest and leveling it concernedly with Ingram's. "do you.. think she's looking for us too?"