Stone Circle only bring the rain

sad man

The sky was a wash of silvery and slate greys, clouds that masked the sun and plunged the teekon into a dull haze; Mawk seemed dull, too. His pelt still glimmered with a golden sheen, but without the beams of soft light to illuminate his fur, he appeared dreary and worn. His eyes were the only saviour, still a furious red amber that burned like the flames that once flickered in his heart - often he would long for that burning ambition once more, that wonder at all around him, but as he reflected on his life he felt so terribly lonely. 

Why did he lose everything he held dear?

The question often bubbled up from the shadowed depths of the wolfdog's double-sided mind, where he felt the pieces of his puzzle cracking and crumbling away where it had once held so firm, so pure. His paws lumbered across the territory he'd known for so long; even his rank had dropped, though of that he cared little, for he had been replaced with some far more capable wolves, wolves who had yet to lose their wild spirits and worked on with the strength he had once done. Perhaps he could worm his way back, but how, when he had so little motivation? So little hope?

Illecebra. Cyron. Burr. Rowana. Mother. Father. Brothers. Sister. Onyx?

Mawk had trailed toward the stones. They watched him in silence as he slunk in, curled tail drooped and head low, a mask of the man he'd once been as he stumbled over and sunk to his cream belly, feeling the dispair shimmer like rain onto his face where tears had gathered at his eyes. He could feel the cold beneath him, could feel the rushing air and the tickling grass, even the call of birds in the distance or the rustle of leaves.

So connected to the world, and yet so lost.