Blackbeak Bluff didn't they tell you, you'd leave and never come back

I'd like to forget about them. He wanted to understand the sentiment, but didn't. If given a choice, Ephraim would have preferred not to forget the majority of his family, if only so that he would recognize them in the future. Then again, his family wasn't a bunch of traitors. It was true that from his perspective, they hadn't come looking for him and didn't care when he got spooked and lost in the storm, but they weren't natrona like Tux's. It was different.

You'll forget, he offered soothingly, splaying his ears and peering at his friend in a consoling way. I did. It just takes time. What Ephraim didn't realize was that the memories of a child were only half formed fragments, and some of those were completely made up; they were old enough now that Tux probably never would forget them, not fully, not the way Ephraim had. He had only his experience to go from, and his experience told him that given time you always forgot.

Maybe it'll rain fire, he suggested, as if that was a phenomenon that could happen in anything but doomsday prophecies, or ice. It looks dangerous. It smells dangerous. I don't like it at all. Do you think we can do anything to prepare Drageda for it...? Batten down the hatches, so to speak, but he didn't know what to expect and so didn't know what to suggest.

For a while longer the two discussed the implications of the storm, agreeing that it would be unlike anything they'd ever seen in their lifetimes, and then headed back to Drageda's cliffs.