Ankyra Sound On the horizon, out on the edge of the world

“Hunting for you.”

He snapped his teeth together in his answer, pinning her with a burning stare. The resentment that he felt toward Wylla was tearing through Caiaphas; he could not help but to feel the questions as questions against his character – who he was – and all he had ever been for her.

“For them.”

The ghost turned his muzzle in the direction of their abandoned young pups with a furrowed brow and a thin-lipped expression. Kierkegaard damned the emotion that bubbled within him, spilling through his gut like a vat of acid. It ached against his insides – it burned him. The indignance in his voice was rightful. The mercenary did not know how he could be a suspect to such distrust. Had he ever been anything but dutiful to her and her cause? Had he shown her anything other than devotion and respect in his time with her? No, he could not stomach her questions because of the wariness in her eyes.

“I have done nothing but work to protect you and your family. I was not made for this life, but I have adopted it… for you, Caiaphas. Do not sever this tie because of your mistrust.” You should know who you’re speaking to.

"Her name is Thuringwethil. She leads the wolves next to us. I do not know what bad blood you have between you, but I did not make the choice to start a pack beside her own. It was not I who needed to be here. I have followed you and only you."