Ghost Lion Crag i left my home still as a child

dumb little arcturus was lucky he had no insights into wraen’s mind: he loved his family immensely, and would have exchanged heated words with anyone who dared malign the family name. actually on second thought, arcturus probably would have only spared discourse if he believed the individual was worth converting; for most wolves he likely would only spare them the cold turn of his back. 

wraen was not like most wolves, not that it mattered to arcturus yet. she was still a stranger to him, though she was afforded an empathetic look as she mentioned her mother was dead. arcturus would likely wither away the day his mother died — he selfishly hoped it never came. oh. sorry. the boy offered, a measly apology for something so well beyond his control. 

now came a change of conversation arcturus knew all too well, and frankly, had begun to resent the adults that often asked him it. what did he want to be? it was a terrifying thought and he often avoided thinking of it on his own time. offering an indifferent shrug of his shoulders, arcturus responded with the well-practiced ease of a boy used to reciting: I don’t know. as long as it is with my family, i don’t care. he glanced to wraen quickly to see if her face would cloud the troubled way many other adult’s did when he answered them. did you grow up to be what you wanted to be?