Dragoncrest Cliffs We can hear when we are hollow

Ephraim shook his head lightly, affirming that they hadn't formally met. There were a few wolves like Aure among the ranks whose names he didn't even know. That was entirely on him. He should be making an effort to get to know the rest of his pack, but since the fighting began, his focus was mostly on himself and his nightmares. He revisited them at least once a night, waking him more often than not, so that even his fur had a disheveled appearance now that he never would have allowed before.

Another Skayona. Great. He should be pleased to know there was another wolf who practiced his craft here, but the problem was that Ephraim didn't practice it. There had been that big storm with the three bucks, and then that other storm the night of the fighting, and since then he found no pleasure in looking to the skies. Glad there's another, he said, and he meant it, but perhaps not in the way Aure might interpret it. Glad there's someone else doing his job, he meant, so no one was likely to notice that he was slacking.

Yeah, been here a while, he answered, lifting one narrow shoulder. I was rescued by my adoptive dad during a bad storm when I was pretty little, went with Heda to Trigeda to learn, then came back a while ago. I was her second. As for the exact time, well, he couldn't say. Wasn't it true that time seemed to crawl for children? It felt like a lifetime. Swallowing the painful lump that formed in his throat at the mention of Antumbra, he sniffed lightly and asked, What brought you here? What made you stay, is what he wanted to ask, for what newcomer would stay when their first days were marked by battle? But that would be rude of him.