Duskfire Glacier from the deepest seas to the darkest nights

This is an IC joining attempt on Echelon's behalf. Anyone's welcome to reply, no need to match length! :3

As the days had stretched into weeks, Echelon's hopes of finding Tonravik dwindled. She did not bother trying to seek out those who had begun to follow in her aokkatti's stead, as she believed they were also gone. Within her burned a certain tinge of confusion, and the very emotion itself was something that she had never felt in all her life. Not even when her mother had succumbed to the wounds of battle. Many things were in black and white for the young Tartok wolf, but this fell into such an area of greyscale that she did not know how to comprehend.

And so she wandered. Her searching had taken her far along the coast one way, when she had decided to turn back. Searching for Tonravik to the south would do her no good; Echelon knew better than to go towards warmer climes. If anything, she believed that perhaps her superior would have returned home. Yet it was somewhere along the path they had taken into the wilderness that she had chosen to deviate. Something in her that boldly shouted I don't want to go home. Consider it arrogant youth in its finest, Echelon had turned and beelined for the glacier she had come across in a previous travel.

Except this time, beneath the midday sun, it did not glow in the way that it had when she had first witnessed it. And with the off and on cloud cover, she did not expect to see that fiery glow any time soon, sunrise or sunset. Yet the sight of it still captivated her all the same, a tribute to a home that she was set on not returning to. It deemed itself an applicable substitute, one that she hoped would draw others of her persuasion to it in the way that Tonravik brought other wolves worthy of holding the Tartok name.

Loitering at their borders, her impatience played a hefty hand as she threw her narrow muzzle skyward and called out. She avoided the higher octaves she could have lent it, never one to really broadcast her mixed heritage. It hardly mattered, for as inky and flighty as she was, Echelon would always look the runt in a crowd. As her loose notes drifted off into the crisp breeze, she settled in to way and watch, wondering just who would come creeping out from the terrain to see to her summon.

Hopefully they wouldn't come out with fangs out, though.

shipwreck a.d. — zenith