The Tangle Where we drift and call it dreaming

He couldn't have beamed more brightly when she praised him—turns out he was a sucker for it. He was pretty tough, wasn't he? He'd survived being turned away from a pack while starving with his family, he'd survived running for a whole night from a storm, he'd succeeded with his initiation into Drageda and he'd survived going to Trigeda with Heda. He'd survived his intensive training there and had earned his grown up role here. These were all accomplishments that Ephraim paraded around in his head as things that few wolves his age had done (he didn't know it was actually pretty common for juveniles to be over-achievers), though he was far too shy and withdrawn to ever gloat about them outright.

In that same vein, he didn't know what to say in response to Blixen's playful compliment, so he ended up staying awkwardly silent while smiling as if very pleased with himself until she spoke again. This was news to Ephraim, who cast a wistful glance out toward the cliffs and the little bay nestled beneath them. He would've liked if they chased out the intruders and settled the beach instead, but he supposed a part of him understood there was risk in that, albeit not very much. Had it been Antumbra's branch, he was certain they would go to battle over it, but others were made of softer stuff than Antumbra—which wasn't hard, since she was edged in diamond as far as he was concerned.

He took the time to take in their surroundings... and grimaced. Isn't it kind of dangerous here? The ground was shitty to walk on as earlier demonstrated, the trees were jagged and grotesque compared to the straight, tall ones bordering the cliffs, and there was just something altogether foreboding about the place. There was a strategic advantage here that he couldn't deny—it would be equally hard to invade as it would be to settle here—but it was overshadowed by his doubts about the livability of it.