Blackfeather Woods i'm so low that my scrotum's almost dragging up on the concrete

He is quiet throughout the trip. It is a hard journey, and he is consumed by worry for Ceara, presumably in the paws of Blackfeather's depraved denizens. Plus, he doesn't know Tegan all that well, and he feels slightly sheepish at having tagged along so readily (though if his actions save Ceara's life, well, no regrets). He is both relieved and anxious when they arrive, the fetid aroma of the bone-lined border sending his nostrils flaring.

Before he can even get a word out, Tegan is howling for Ceara, and Llewellyn flashes him his trademarked "Are you fucking kidding me?" expression, bristling as he shoves his shoulder into the boy's own. "Be quiet," he snaps in the most authoritarian tone he can muster, hissing through his teeth. "Do you think they are going to be honest with us, tell us exactly where she is? Come on, we need to get in before they come."

The golden wolf trots quickly, soundlessly away, waving his tail for Tegan to follow. He slinks like a commando, belly to the grass, moving a good distance before slipping into the shadows. They are at the edge of the border, not quite across but well within the point of no return. He glances at Tegan, who (hopefully) has followed him to this point.

"If they find us, we explain ourselves," Llewellyn explains. "They are in the wrong, not us. We go until we are caught. Go. We will look for her scent."