Stone Circle so i'll follow the birdsong

The first to meet them was a slate-coated female with a bird clutched in her jaws. The sight of the animal made his mouth salivate with a deep-rooted need to devour. Kierkegaard reigned the instinct in and swallowed stiffly. Yet, in an act of selfless kindness, the stranger offered the bird to them and instructed that she would call upon her leaders. Were he a younger man, his pride would have driven him to snap wickedly at his child for taking the pity meal. Instead, he watched almost enviously as Ephraim rushed forward and began to pull the prey bird away with desperate and scrabbling little paws. The ghost knew that they were to eat first; he would suffer until they had found peace for the family.

Caiaphas was the first to speak about her former rank and the home they had left behind. Kierkegaard listened with a single ear swiveled toward her. His dark lips were curled downward in an impressive frown. Once she had concluded, there was a dark-cloaked male who drew near to them. The ghost regarded the man with a curious expression, neither unimpressed nor apathetic to the cut of his gait and frame. It was with a quick remark that the male boiled down to their reason for being there.

Not long after him, a lighter-toned woman was quick to pull herself toward the scene. She entered with authority; just higher than the male and much more evident than the first female who had offered his family the bird. Kierkegaard felt his chest grow tired and his eyes drifted toward his children with a worrisome fluttering – like the wings of a thousand butterflies taking flight – in his gut. The leader of the pack they had found seemed as though she was ready to cut straight to the business of it, as well. Without any formalities, the haggard old man motioned with a swing of his muzzle toward his young and his mate.

“Our home was invaded by a large bear. It is no longer safe for our children to live there. We need a home for them… we need somewhere that they can thrive and grow. We cannot continue to wander these wilds in our state. Our youngest cannot even hold himself up on his own limbs,” Kierkegaard answered her with a respectful and short dip of his skull toward the earth. It was in this action that he felt the weight of his weariness against his shoulders and back. The ragged hound’s limbs quivered with the force it took to hold himself upright. “Our pups are tired and cannot go further. If we should force it, they will surely not make it. They need a home.”

It was as simply as could be put. The ghost did not wish to be part of a new pack; he did not wish to climb the ranks again, or to establish himself as a mercenary for another group. He wished only for the safety of his young, and the opportunity for his mate to thrive. There would not be many days left under his scarred pelt.