Stone Circle alive in quiet destruction and unmoving

cyron spent his first week back in easthollow keeping to the confines of his parent’s den. it feels a bit cramped with the two adults and one very nearly adult sized child but he is too tired to care. it makes him feel claustrophobic from time to time — when he is awake and coherent enough to actually notice — but he dutifully eats the meals they bring him glad that he is eating and keeping the food down and spends much time sleeping as he instinctively does what his body needs him to do in an attempt to heal. when he awakes as dawn breaks in the sky he slips from the den, suddenly feeling trapped and reminded of wolf skull cave with violent flashbacks that leaves him gasping for air as if he can no longer find his lungs. the frigid winter air whips against and through his sterling fur and for once he is grateful that the chill does not bring numbness with it. he feels it sting where it touches the shorter fur of his muzzle and he becomes aware of the sting of pain on the right side of his muzzle where the flesh is marred with a long, jagged wound that is in the processes of scarring beneath the tearing scabbing and some sort of paste that covers it though who has been tending to it cyron is not aware aside from that he knows he hasn’t been doing it himself. cyron is not sure whether he did it to himself in the blur and chaos of his escape, if it came form his journey back home or if one of the blackfeather wolves were responsible. it was impossible to tell and cyron had been in no psychological state to clearly say; or to evidently even realize he was injured at all. even now, it remains a mystery as he habitually tries to block out the trauma he’s suffered, tries to build up from the ruins blackfeather has unarguably left him in.

this is the first time that he has begun to feel better. not healed for there are no miracles for the sterling garbed saefyn. he isn’t sure he can ever be fully healed but he knows that regardless he will never be the same. cyron might still be alive but blackfeather woods had killed the boy they’d captured and built something else within him. it was a slow process and though he wants nothing to do with them they have undeniably left their mark on him. he pads away from the mouth of the den and ventures into the forested area of stone circle wanting to stretch his stiff muscles and remind himself that he’s not a captive and that he never will be again.