Blackbeak Bluff when every thursday

Lead you home... Where was that exactly? 

Before entering this indifferent state of mind he was currently in, Merlin had been searching for the figurative home, where he would fit in and no one would ask questions of, where he came from. Lucky for him most people weren't interested in hearing long-winding origin stories, they were fine with the vague version of very little details. In the wolf world, if you went off the map, the likelihood of meeting somoene, who knew people you had known previously, was slim. Still... every time he recited his version of events with slight changes every time (depending on, which pieces of mosaic his mind pushed around and arranged differently) he had sensed that something was missing. Everyone he had met up until now had spoken of home with a warm glint of happiness and longing in their eyes and at those particular times Merlin was painfully aware that his "home" was a shell with nothing meaningful inside. He sensed the familiar feeling now, but it did not seem to matter as much as it had before. 

"What stories?" he asked, wondering, if stars too had to lie to prove a point that their existance was real and valid.