Blackfoot Forest I couldn't imagine a more perfect evening

This time he headed south from his family's makeshift camp in Wapun Meadow. He couldn't stand the sight of their younger light-haired ward anymore and need a time-out from him, lest he lose his temper and hurt the kid—and he knew Caiaphas would kick his ass to the moon if he did that, to say nothing of Kierkegaard's punishment for such a thing. No, Ephraim would rather keep his hide intact. So he spent the pent-up energy in the only way he knew how when on his own: walking.

His pace was slow as he approached the dark edge of a woodland as dusk claimed the land. His parents would wonder after him at this hour, but oh well. It was neither the first or last time he would be given a stern talking to for wandering off. What was a growing boy to do? With no security in the form of a pack, he had to keep his vigil even when his parents were around. It was exhausting and, moreover, made him restless and inconsolable.

There was a little comfort in the familiarity of the forest. He had crossed through one or two briefly while his family fled the coast and had enjoyed the heavy cover they provided. Even as a toddler, Ephraim's mind was busy churning out strategies for both escape and ambush; that was what his ancestors excelled at, after all. His ears came to sharp points over his brows as a haunting scream cut through the trees, raising the thin all along his spine into sharp lines. His tail was bottlebrush behind him as he turned about, heart hammering, and found he was staring at the blackened complexion of some specter stalking through the woods.

The pup screeched right in Corvus' face.