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

Ephraim listened, and listened well. There were times he wanted to interject and ask more questions, like when Vercingetorix's name came up. That son of a bitch. He'd left Ephraim chained in Drageda and left him there, claiming he was leaving to secure a better and safer life for his offspring, only to join Rusalka in the end. It wasn't the roiling distaste of a former comrade joining the enemy's side, for Ephraim wasn't convinced that Rusalka was his enemy—they were his family, no matter what they thought of him—but the disappointment of being turned prisoner for wanting to leave because he couldn't fight them, only for one of his captives to join them.

Horror followed quickly when Raleska revealed that Caiaphas had killed one of Easthollow's pups. Ephraim didn't remember the place. He didn't remember being there as a child or being turned away; the inevitable haze of time that stole most youthful memories had taken that one, too. Most of the names she rattled off at that point meant nothing to Ephraim. He didn't know who Aningan was, he didn't remember Svalinn, he didn't know Rosalyn (by name) and he didn't know Erzulie. He knew Illidan was his brother but little else. It stung for her to claim he was dead—forsaken was the proper word. Forsaken by his family, forsaken by his pack, all because as a little boy with no means to care for himself, he had stumbled into the wrong hands.

As for Raleska's hand in all of it... Ephraim understood, and he also didn't. He could've been the perfect little soldier for his mother if she hadn't chosen to cut ties with him on the cliffs that night. If she had stolen him away with her he could've followed her every order... if she'd been more clever than that, he could've been a spy on the inside for her. In truth, Ephraim would've done anything to reconnect with his family and be brought back into their fold, even if he thought he hated them at the time. On that hand, he rebelled against the idea of exiling his own mother, and that part of him railed against Raleska for choosing to turn her back on her family.

On the other hand, Ephraim had done the very same thing. Not intentionally, but nevertheless, he had turned his back on them and stood on the opposing side in their war. Things might've been very different if he knew exactly who he was fighting; all he knew was that some wolves had set up on the beach that Drageda wished to claim, the very beach whose blue-lit grotto featured in his earliest memories, and he had wanted them gone so he could return to his home and have what little he could of his old life. And could he fault Raleska for wanting stability in her life, with chaos incarnate for a mother? Ephraim didn't know the meaning of the word, but he certainly would've chosen it if he had the opportunity.

You didn't make her sick, he said at last. If he was more like his mother and less like Kierkegaard, or less like Etoille who had taken him in, maybe he would've turned the gun on her. He just couldn't. I don't know what was wrong with her but if you'd been with her she might've hurt you. Maybe you'd get sick, too. Or maybe she wouldn't have; maybe Caiaphas had only advanced on him in her horrific stumbling way because she remembered that he was the son who accidentally betrayed her. Maybe if you didn't turn her away she wouldn't have got sick, but in case she took it as an accusation, he was quick to add, but maybe she would have anyway, and then maybe your whole pack would be sick and you all would die.

You can't blame yourself for nature. If she's like you say, because Ephraim never had the chance to really know his mother, so he couldn't say for sure, then maybe it was her soul what made her sick and maybe it was unavoidable.