Blackfeather Woods I'm starting to notice a sound

Thought returns to him in jagged shards, clipped fragments of observations like an old flickering reel of film. He blinks, noting Rowan's sudden presence. Words. Distress coloring the air around him. It feels out of place. His co-leader's proximity inspires an immediate reaction; the wraith leans forward and into dark fur, seeking to bury his face into it. Rowan, Zephyr manages, a little slurred with fatigue. He fights through the fog, grasping for more words. The tree — Mephala... we should... talk. Later. It's so hard to think, and no matter how hard he tries, he still cannot make his limbs work the way he wants them to. I'm — I'm okay. He pulls away to look at Taikon, offering a warm yet mournful glance, gratitude and guilt rolled into one. The real weight of the man's presence here is finally sinking in, and Zephyr is realizing that he can't deny his place in his life anymore. It is a bitter one, full of holes he'll always ache to fill, but it is set in stone now. The wraith only wishes it'd been solidified some other way.