Dragoncrest Cliffs We can lose and call it living

The rest of the day following Antumbra's death passed by in a blur. Ephraim numbly went about his tasks at the borders, marking more vigorously than normal in the evening, as if somehow that would stymie the rising tide of anguish and uncertainty hovering over the pack. If he just made sure the borders were heavily tended, no one would need to know that their leader was dead. They would continue to present a strong and united front. But his paws moved of their own accord, while he was locked in a battle in his own head.

Drageda felt wrong now. He couldn't put a finger on why, but without Antumbra, it seemed like the place would fall apart. He felt terrible for doubting Blixen, but it wasn't even specifically her that he was unsure of. This was just the result of a child placing someone on a pedestal and then watching, horrified, as it crashed down around them. He'd had illusions about the pack's strength and they'd been shattered by Heda's death. More than that: now he even doubted the strength they did have, for in all the turmoil, they continued to be idle.

Ephraim forced himself out of his thoughts by reminding himself that all the pain and betrayal he felt was nothing compared to what @Tux and his siblings must be feeling. Turning automatically, he made a beeline for Hougeda, where he hoped to find his friend.