disquiet

@Signe and @Caiaphas

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The towering cliffs had not been as intimidating the first time that the ghastly male had come upon them. It very well could have been because the infection in his leg had eaten away at his common sense. He had not been right in the head. It could easily have been said that he was still cloudy. After the healing process had taken place and he had returned to his natural, hulking, predatory self, Kierkegaard had still managed to make a poor decision – one that he was not prepared for. And that decision was trialing close behind him as he made his way along the base of the cliffs to where Ankyra Sound opened up. She had been good; Signe had followed him from where he had found her beside the river, and she had not opened her small mouth in complaint, not even once.
Lifting his skull upwards, Kierkegaard tossed his ears forward and paused in their trek, waiting until he felt the short tuft of dark fur against his leg. He did not need to turn to know that Signe was still following him. He had faith that she would be there within moments. Drawing in a breath that filled his mouth with a taste of sea salt and brine, the ashen male swallowed heavily. He did not understand how the waif could live so close to such a stench, but he supposed that the mystery of the sound seemed to suit her.
Something in the air had changed, and he could note it as he drew closer to the opening of the pack. The markings along the borders were different than he last recalled. With a confused expression, the ghostly figure lifted his head and called for the female, hoping that she would be in the grotto that she had taken him to before. The rate at which his heart beat seemed to increase, only slightly, as he waited for the yellow-eyed female to arrive.