Noctisardor Bypass the brave little tailor

Upon finding the bracken forest thoroughly deserted, Thade knew immediately to turn west and head for the last place he had seen his father: the Bypass. It had been wishful to think that the wolves of Rivenwood would return to the sparse timberland after declaring dominion over another territory, but the yearling felt no eagerness to return to the scene of his first skirmish. He felt no pride in his primal instinct to protect the wolves he cared about, and he even felt frightened of the fact that he was capable of such grievous action without a second thought.

He tried not to think about it, but Thade moved slower and slower the closer he came to Noctisardor, and his head began to swim with anxiety. The same anxiety that had driven him from beneath his father’s wing again, in another misplaced effort to locate his mother by himself. He simply did not know how to ask for help or receive it — perhaps, he was not even aware that he could — but an unfortunate springtime encounter left him in need of the very same help he had so flippantly discarded.

It was not long after dawn when he reached Rivenwood’s claim, and a cool morning mist slowly dissipated from the brightening air. Thade stiffened as he approached the border, standing tall in an effort to mask his recently acquired limp from any patrollers. He was sprained and bruised, but there was nothing besides his stifled limp — no dried blood or fresh wound — that would obviously indicate to his injuries. His feelings were hurt more than anything, but he tried not to think about that either.

In fact, Thade was beginning to feel that a lot of his life was being spent trying not to think about certain things that had happened…

The blacksmoke wayfarer let out an anxious breath, then howled for @Mahler.