Dragoncrest Cliffs Wait for me to come home.

Opalia spoke fondly of their Drakru family, and Dacio hummed softly to himself as he thought of them. Of their cousins Silkie and Tux, his firm friends they'd been fortunate enough to grow up and train alongside. Of their beloved father, the last true blood relative they had left. Of Tirgatao, Helix, Mallaidh, even Artaax who'd been both terrifying and inspirational throughout his younger months. His mind settled on Blixen, the wolfess who'd played so many significant roles in Dacio's young life: mentor, guardian, protector, Fleimkepa turned Wormana. She had seen potential in him when others may have not, even long before war had hardened him. Through her teachings he found a purpose, a grounding, something he would be forever thankful for.

The sterling yearling exhaled a sigh, and blinked from his train of thought as Opalia agreed to investigate their options at Elysium. Even if the pack proved unsuitable, Dacio figured it could be a good idea to lay low there for a time to rest and lick their wounds. "We'll leave within the hour," Dacio concluded as he shifted his weight, arching his proud neck to better reach the raw flesh of his chest where the sea witch's daughter had managed to assault him with her teeth. Tentatively he picked at the surrounding furs, carefully plucking the blood that had dried and darkened there.