Sea Lion Shores i want a hot dog real bad

Artaax blinked his eyes heavily as he finally slowed from a canter to a slow trot. The exhaustion he'd felt before was absolutely nothing compared to what he felt now. It had been two full days running (give or take) as fast as his body would allow to bring him to where he was now, which still was not near enough to where he wanted to be. He ran as though he could somehow outrun the repercussions of the blow he'd been dealt at the Plateau. Or that distance from his mother would somehow cure the nagging love and concern for her he was trying so hard not to feel. It wasn't working at all on either front.

If there was one thing Artaax was sure of, it was that getting home was absolutely paramount now. He had been gone too long and apparently for nothing. He needed to speak with his sister and let her know all that had transpired. He needed heda to come home to hear of all he had to tell her. Artaax was yet uncertain how the commander would react to his tale, and in truth, he was afraid to find out. But he knew his anxiety over not knowing would only end once Thuringwethil had made her declaration, and so he needed fate to align itself so that he could get his answers as quickly as possible. Then... They would see.

Unfortunately though for Artaax, he was not a god. His trot lasted him only about thirty seconds before he was faltering, stumbling, and collapsing onto the ground in a white, salt and earth stained heap. He shut his eyes miserably as the wind battered against his face and trembled, ignorant of the fact he had landed precariously close to a whole other mess of emotional crap he did not want to deal with. The whole other mess of emotional crap, of course, being lovingly known as Mallaidh.