Dragoncrest Cliffs We can hear when we are hollow

Ephraim turned a slim ear in the direction of someone's hobbled approach, but couldn't place the sound of their steps as anyone he knew. It could have been any one of the Drakru; many of them were still recovering from injuries, himself included. But when he turned his wedged head to the sound of her unfamiliar greeting, he found someone he didn't really recognize at all. Surely he'd seen her in passing here and there, but Ephraim couldn't put a name to Aure's face. His fault. He'd been so disengaged since the conflict, he never bothered getting to know half his pack.

I don't know what that means, Ephraim admitted, removing the remainder of his attention from the boulder. Maybe he was only using it to send his mind to another place, another reality in which Heda wasn't dead and he didn't feel lost in his own clan. Haven't seen you around, he prompted, I'm Ephraim. Skayona, he added, but his lips turned down at the thought. He was no good as a Skayona, fleeing from storms like some babe. He wasn't even sure he was good as kru anymore; Blodreina had made it clear, at least the way he had misunderstood her, that the only worthy kru were those born to it.

Been here long? he asked, rather ignorantly, for Aure had accomplished far more than morose Ephraim in the past month-or-so.