Two Rivers Isle Epic Meal Time

Where most thought Cry even having the name Cry was weird, interest shine like lighthouse beams in Epic’s eyes. And that has caught Cry off guard, yet again. While Phex held Cry’s adoration with her playful tactics, Epic had warmed him up with genuine curiosity. 

That honesty made Cry want to be honest, too. 
So he did. 
He opened up a bit more than he had to anyone, to a young stranger he had only met that day. 

“Cry is bad, Epic. He’s killed, he’s kidnapped, he’s stolen, and he’s worked only for the benifit of whoever had offered him payment. And he has only just hung his belt up. Personally, I don’t know whether that’s a good thing, or not. The Wilds aren’t as safe as nicer wolves deserve. And Cry knows that.”

Choosing to sit and tell this boy some stories, Cry let it all out. 

“I didn’t choose the name...my Mentor did. His name was Slade, and he was the literal definition of a Nightmare. He kidnapped me from my mother, who had named me a completely different name than the one Slade had stuck to me. I had gotten it because through all of the pain and misery he had ever put me through, he had never seen me cry. Instead, he would try his hardest to make me cry...he would torture me, maim me, put me in severe situations, and this was all as I was still a pup, barely begun to walk. He would to so much to try and see me break... but I never had.”

Cry remembered the several instances where in his absolute rage, Slade would chase behind Cry, greedily loving the terror he had bestowed in the wolf. So many chases until Cry would grow smart and know how to lose him, know where he would come from next, know where to hide and where to tuck himself away until he was called out. All while hot pants behind his fleeing body, searing a command in the back of his head.
’Cry...’ 

A chuff and a shaken head was all he could donate to such a tortured visual. Some had it lucky.

some didn’t.