Ankyra Sound imma toss my hat in, floss when the track spin

Svalinn fell eerily still as Val relayed that the Sound was the place of his birth, as well as his mother’s. His brow knitted together, copper eyes scrutinizing the male once more. He tried to place the pebbledark fur, the ivy-green eyes. It frustrated him not to know and he snorted disbelievingly.

He cast a quick look up towards the cliff. He remembered it, though not fondly, and the rogue wondered if the cliff wolves that Rusalka had fought with all that time ago were still residing there. He considered chasing Val off – it would have brought him an iota of self-satisfaction, he thought – but too much of his nature (as opposed to his nurture) still remained inside him.

I was born here, too. There was almost a shred of bemusement in his voice. Almost. This used to be the home of Rusalka.