Stone Circle I'm setting fire to my lungs

The point that Ira made caused Ephraim to flinch a little. She was right, of course. It was idiotic to go throwing himself at the first place he found away from the sea, but he didn't see any other options. He wouldn't starve on his own, but it wouldn't exactly be a comfortable existence either. Then again, it wasn't like his life thus far had been cozy in any sense of the word. There'd been a brief period at Trigeda and then at Drageda where things felt safe, but before that was a void in his memory and after that was nothing but terror.

I... the coywolf faltered, trying to swallow past the large lump that formed in his throat. Ira wanted to know his skills, and all the voice in his head was saying was that he didn't have any. He was a trained warrior of Drageda, but that counted for nothing in the end. He was a naturalist who was afraid of storms, and he was a boat without a moor.

I'm sorry, he said, frowning at the words that spilled unbidden from his lips, I can't. And just like that he turned and went. This wasn't far enough. Nowhere would ever be far enough.