Ankyra Sound oh wow, you look like the fourth of july

Heda didn't speak aloud, but Artaax was accustomed to her non-verbal language being fluent in it himself. His gaze shifted to Blixen as she filled the quiet with a question. Both looked apprehensive, but as though they perhaps expected the worst. His eyes moved again to briefly brush against Furi and he took in a breath, looking again at his mother before continuing.

"The Hinterlands, far to the South," Artaax answered, "I tried to bring her back. She ran from me. I followed her to the Redhawks - they had taken her in - and I met.. I met the rest at the borders. Kiwi, and... Wildfire." He stumbled briefly on saying his mother's name. He no longer liked the feel of it on his tongue. It was a foul word to him now, and his chest clenched uncomfortably at the sound of it. He hated the feeling, so he called up his anger again to get him through the last.

"I tried to bring them all back. They refused," Artaax continued after a beat, his voice cold now, flat, calm, steady - that odd quiet that masked all else that may otherwise have been told, "I reminded them what it is to be natrona. I reminded her of the consequences. She would not come." The young wolf dropped his gaze then to his paws, a silent gesture that said the very last bit he could not lend his voice to: I failed.