Broken Antler Fen i don't care if the sun don't shine

it only added insult to injury that the man seemed to have no clue what cam was on about. the worst day of his life, save perhaps the day his mother had died. . .no clue. this man, in each and every one of his nightmares; this man, who should have died upon that blasted mountain; this man, who stood on the borders of a pack inhabited by an old friend—

you! he spat, anger rising in spite of his better judgment. he turned, exposing his rear flank to the sentinel, snarling. the fur had long grown back, but crooked, so that it didn't neatly fall over the skin as the rest of his pelt did. the scar was nestled there—mostly hidden, but still there.

you did this. you and that giant woman—i was a boy, and you chased me down the mountain—you tried to kill me—i fell upon a stick and pierced my leg and nearly died! his eyes were wide, burning, and every hair stood on end. i remember, and yet you've forgotten?!

if it weren't for the promise of seeing ibis, he would have turned around right then and there to continue his search. that being said, he might now have already burned his bridges with this new pack, anyway.