Ankyra Sound While you're feelin' proud, why don't you help me?

Though the blood was cleansed now from the land, it had not been erased prior to the boy taking notice. Several scents were mixed together within it but, the most prominent was Caiaphas. The second he’d realised that there was an unimaginably high chance that the blood belonged to her, his mind went to work creating the worst of scenarios. Could she be dead? His thoughts, falling far from the course of logic, made it out to be so; in the back of his mind, he knew that the entirety of the pack would have been notified if she’d passed but, having slipped into panic mode, he could listen to no reason, not even from himself. This downward spiral of madness was egged on by the scents of others, as one stood out with a trace of familiarity: the scent that had previously clung to the older woman during his last meeting with her, the scent of the male that had stolen her glory.

He was the cause of this, undoubtedly.

Aningan sought the male out, only to find that he was not present; his trail was faint, leading out of the sound. Ultimately, he had no other choice but to loop back around to his point of origin and, instead, search for Caiaphas—except, as he neared the location, he found the blood to be missing and the stench of the man prevalent. Scrunching up his nose, the boy’s head dipped closer to the ground as he began tracking, ensuring that every step he took was towards the assumed murderer of his friend.

When a form became visible, it took every ounce of willpower that he had to not charge the other male. Rather, he shouted, “UkuKsi!” and stalked forward, fur bristled all along his back. At the same time, his brain continued to fuel his anger, insisting that the siren had perished and that the usurper before him, the man that had returned to the scene of the crime, was solely to blame.