Dragoncrest Cliffs leave me a literature of toothmarks & tongue-tracks

Artaax was tired as they made their way back to Drageda. He has less reason to be than the ones that had actually participated in the battle, but the time they'd spent away from home the past few weeks - months, really - had been taxing on him. He had longed to get back home and get back to his normal, peaceful life again. He wanted to spend his days studying ducks, stalking packmates, and giving Bobby shit for every possible reason he could come up with. He wanted to sleep in hougeda beside his family and play in the salty sea sprays along the coast. And it was all within the young hompleia's reach, finally.

He would appreciate that more once he'd had a nap, though. It was with weary relief that the boy trudged past the borders onto Drageda land. He took in a deep breath, savoring the scent of home and letting it fuel the remainder of the journey towards the heart of their home and soon enough into the arms of his mother, whom he greeted alongside Blixen with silent smiles and a rapidly wagging tail.