Stone Circle whiskey's good proofing water

this contemplation of his current crossroads, and the paths open to him make ingram distracted. not exactly great for patrols but there is nothing that neither smells or sounds out of ordinary; thus, ingram cannot be arsed to care much. which says more than he was perhaps willing to look too deeply into.

crossing the paths with another packmate on patrol is not, in and of itself, unexpected but ingram is forced to resurface from his internal deep dive. he is younger, this man. and not one that ingram has came across before — but then again, he has spent many and more nights away than actually being apart of the pack.

the non-verbal greetings are acknowledged by ingram, who is equally as comfortable with leaving it at that. but something compels him to speak, offering a quiet, hello.

perhaps it is the soft hunger for a distraction from the freckled blackthorn and her never-ending questions sneaking her way into his thoughts often.