Ankyra Sound fed her honey to keep the monarchy pleased

Grimnismal was well on the road to falling apart and Nyx couldn't help but mentally kick herself for not leaving before it was too late. Moping, the golden Ostrega prowled the sequoias alone in the direction of a favoured resting spot, where she could continue to nurse her wounded pride and figure out her next course of action.

Pressing her flank to the base of a tree, Nyx set about licking deepest of lacerations on her forelimb. The pressure of her tongue caused the cut to sting and, squeezing her eyes shut, pushed through the pain in attempt to rid it of sand and prevent infection. Just as she prepared to work on another scratch, Ingram's familiar voice travelled across the strand and she pricked her rugged ears to listen.

He was leaving, and in doing so had wounded her deeper than anything physical that the Drageda wolf had placed on her hide.

Ingram and Lycaon had been her grounding to the coast - the sole reason she remained within the ranks of Grimnismal. Hurt that one of very few she considered a friend had up and left without a proper farewell, Nyx gritted her teeth and gathered herself to stalk away to a more secluded place where she could feel sorry for herself.