Ankyra Sound It's just that everything reminds me

The Strand; perhaps for someone he hasn't threaded with before?

You need rest, and then you can try again.
He's fine! Look, he's standing on his own now —

And he was, but they weren't looking so closely at him this time. They didn't need to, knowing that his butchered body had weakened in the past few days; he was fighting infection, fighting the damage from an unknown assailant, fighting for his own independence from their constant guard and care — Firefly saw a gleam in her eye as she finally turned to look at him, and then she cautioned, You can't fight everyone, Firefly.

The sharp voice of Willowstrife was echoing through his memory like a balm to his less physical wounds. His ego stung. It felt like he was repeating things. Finding something to combat, being torn to shreds, and not giving up. This time he didn't have Willow's knowledge or Nettle's companionship to get him through it. He had the sea — which billowed out from the pack's private beach, as if to avoid contact with the swarthy man as he drifted, brooding and frustrated, across it. Firefly found a narrow plateau of stone which likely would be submerged when the tide rolled in again, and here he placed himself, laying down and watching the crashing of the surf.