Ankyra Sound There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon

Don't hurt me, pleaded Raleska, and Ephraim's belly roiled with bile. He held it down, just barely, but his voice was raw and sourly twisted when he asked, why?

It was an unclear thing to say and he knew it. He swallowed thickly and pressed back onto his haunches, forepaws hovering on warily on the sand. Every muscle in his body was tense. He didn't recognize Raleska. Not as his sister. Not as the wolf whom Blixen and Mallaidh had restrained. She was as good as a stranger to him, and yet her face drew forth the haziest memory of a little washed out girl screaming at him on a beach just like this...

Why would I hurt you? he blurted out, snatching back his tall ears at his own outburst. He had never been the type. He hadn't meant to clash with his blood alongside Drageda; he had only sought to protect his friends, the wolves who pretended at being family. He hadn't meant to strike Blackbird. He hadn't meant to lunge at Blixen... the last thing Ephraim was was someone capable of inflicting harm without a good reason.

Which brought him back to now. To protect Caiaphas—to protect his newest and darkest secret—what would he do? Surely he would throw a punch at most wolves, and yet he felt reluctant about aiming a strike at her for some reason. Why are you here? Why do you make me think of this place? What do you want with me? Go away go away go away, he fervently thought.