Rising Sun Valley I'll go anywhere you want me

Endless ground seemed to stretch between the Glacier and the sea, rolling hills illuminated by the starry host and the waning crescent of the moon. He'd been moving since dusk, and had not stopped since. Before he'd followed the Sveijarns to Duskfire, he had travelled distances far surpassing that which lay before him now. Malachi could handle the trek, knowing that every step he took away from the Glacier set him one pace closer to what he'd finally set out to accomplish, and one step further from every doubt that held him back.

Night had yet to turn to day when he finally slowed to rest. He could barely make out the Glacier's silhouette against the lightless sky, but he knew he still had far to go until he reached the shore. After Caiaphas had left him, he'd watched her go, noting her direction and committing her path to memory. He had not followed her that night, but allowed her to return to the pack she called Stavanger Bay, certain she would return to him whether the news she held lay in his favour or not. But she had never come, and he had given her long enough. If she would not seek him out, then he would have to find her pack himself.

Drawing up beside a trickling stream, Malachi bowed his head and took in the cool water with fervent laps. The refreshing liquid ran down his parched throat, and he found favour in the lack of head rush he often received from drinking the Glacier's run-off too fast. Thoughts of his packmates lingered in his mind as an ever present concern, but he quenched his worry by assuring himself he wouldn't be gone for long.