Stone Circle Feeling Hotter Than a Glue Gun

@Polaris backdated to around Sep 17-19th

Guilt. One of several emotions to overcome the woodland boy as days passed. How had it all started? One simple mistake. West thought he was doing what he needed to protect his family, but it was soon proved that he had gone too far. Never had he intended to kill the white witch, only to send a message. To keep her from trailing back once more with the intention of harm towards his pack. Instead, he had thrown those he sought to protect into tensions higher than ever with their neighbors.

To add to his woes, days later his siblings had dragged a corpse to their circle, one disfigured, burnt, and half-consumed... he had been identified as Clay despite his lack of face. Something about the sight had snapped something closed within him as West began distancing himself from his family. Brief memories consumed him; of his childhood, of Leta's unresponsiveness, of checking the borders daily in hopes that his brothers would return ok. Then the day came that Clay finally did return and he hadn't even recognized him. He should have held onto him, he shouldn't have let him slip away again. When Clay left again he was old enough to follow, yet he had only shaken his head at the realization that he left them once more.

They never got along...but he was still his brother. He was supposed to protect him and he failed. Maybe this was his punishment for Rosina, though Ursus still sought blood. More than once now he had debated how to right his wrongs, all while sparing his life. Now was not the first time he had considered leaving. What good was he here if all he did was bring harm instead of preventing it? Deep down, he didn't want to leave his family, but maybe it would turn Ursus' attention away from the hollow.

Green eyes stared into the pool of his reflection. West wasn't sure where his paws were leading him until he had crossed into the forest, following the breeze and autumn leaves until the glint of water caught his eyes. There's not a time in his life that he remembered crying, not when he was a kid, not now, yet when he gazed down he could see the wet trails that remained betraying his heart. With an empty blink, the boy raised his foreleg to wipe at the passed tears in a feeble attempt to be rid of the evidence.