The Sentinels no roots

Ford did all that he could to study the features and reactions that flashed along Embry's face. He could not have gauged his responses without having done so. It was safe to see the look of surprise that had echoed in the other male's expression when the warhound had mentioned his belief in gods and titans. In many ways, he had found it hard to wrap his logical and rational mind around the premise of things beyond what he could see. His mother had held a firm belief in spirits, and she had openly shared this with all of them as they had grown. Their father had imposed the ways of the witchdoctors on them, and the powerful presences that prowled in the depths of the ocean. Ford had known both well, and he had sought his own pathway to learning more.

“In all that I can, yes,” he answered stoically. “My hopes are that you will all grow to be guides to our youth, when they should arrive.” He did not anticipate that he would ever return to his homeland again. He had been given a destiny and a path on which to fulfill that, and he had taken it in great strides. He was a titan, after all; there was no room for his failure. In that, he believed that the pack he had founded would become the very same.