The Sentinels a' caoineadh

The loudmouth he had dealt with before was rough, and he was sure that would have been the most of his troubles. Instead, this time, he stared at a man whose fur was scrambled. His eyes were awake in the worst of ways, and when he moved, he moved as if the sky itself tried to crash upon him. A million words in his eyes that unsettled his own stomach, and in his voice, a horrid cracking.

Wasn't his business. Don't get involved. Especially not again. Not right now. There was something dire then eating at the back of his skull, the longer he stayed. He was certainly not very helpful, and yet continuing to walk felt no better. No better.

He had been here before.

When had he been here before?

"No," fell his ears, and the anxiety started to reflect into himself. "Still not me. Sorry. You look pretty roughed up right now." And they were near a packs borders. If this man approached a wolf like this, they'd think he was insane. Maybe he wasn't. But others thought that of him pretty quickly, so- "Where are you headed?"