Noctisardor Bypass the place from where i fell

Thade limped slowly towards the nearest large body of water in search of a cool bath. Mahler was verifiably within Rivenwood bounds and this put him at ease somewhat, enough so that he found it high time to engage in something more relaxing than lying in wait.

He would always fret whenever his father was away, and the Graf was quite a busy wolf — someone who often left but always returned. Not that this fact did much of anything to ease his own emotions. Because in reality, the yearling could not handle the waiting. He had found of himself that staying put or trying to distract himself while his loved ones were away was simply not comfortable for him. He would rather abscond into the wilderness, pretending as if he were doing anyone any good by getting himself repeatedly lost in hapless attempts to settle his anxious heart. Possibly the only thing that had kept Thade in the Bypass so far was his hairline-fractured ankle.

It was hard for him to understand why the wolves he loved would not simply stay where they belonged. Idly, he supposed that Phaedra had been ever-present, even when their parents were not, but he could not bring himself to approach his own sister as openly as he wanted to. He feared that the absence between them, as well as his squandered searches for their mother, had hardened her heart to him, leaving the badger a little more than fearful of finding out the truth.

At least this way, he could pretend their relationship was something else.

When he heard someone stifling their sobs up ahead, he imagined that it was Phaedra. His pace quickened, and his alarmed stride was briefly absent of a hitch, but he stopped short when he realized that it was not his sister crying at the lagoon. Thade looked away from the she-wolf quickly, as if he had just caught her in a state of undress, and favored his bruised foreleg once more as he hesitated to leave.

I-I’m very sorry, miss, he stammered out. I thought you were my sister. Gulping, he chanced to peek at her out of the corner of his evergreen eye. He did not recognize her, but she smelled like a packmate, and he knew he would feel guilty if he did not at least ask: a-are you okay? …well, I mean, obviously you’re… er, sorry I’m being dumb. What I mean to ask is, can I help?