Broken Antler Fen there's no place like home

In the brief moment between his question and answer his muscles had stiffened and a sense had dread had lodged like cold stone in his gut. The white wolf was strong and in good health, and accustom to being on his feet and moving. He could travel much further before he would be forced to yield. But he did not want to. Skwol was tired.

He sank onto his haunches with a long sigh as she replied — relieved that he would not be forced to gather his paws and keep going. She asked him if he knew them and he nodded. "Too well." He paused and searched her face, as if he would find something there. In actuality his search was more inward. He debated what if anything he wanted to tell her. He was a private wolf but their shared pains were compelling.

"I have come far to be rid of them," he shared. "Several moons, erh.." His brows knitted and his mouth shifted. His sense of the passage of time was unclear; clouded by grief. "Sometime before the leaves fell." He shrugged.

It will never feel far enough."

For him; and likely for her too.