The Sentinels no roots

Thank you for getting this up. I must say, I'm diggin' the name.

For the first time since his eleventh month on earth, Embry knew he was not far from home. 

He took one gulp of that fresh, briny air, and the fur along his neck pricked upwards. A rogue's instinct fought the overwhelming tide of nostalgia that pilfered his thoughts and occluded what doubts he had hitherto harbored. So many things had changed since he had last felt the silken touch of sand beneath his paws... Would his old friend even remember such a transmuted specter of that former child? Even now, Embry was not sure whether he would recognize himself when he faced the shoreline once more.

It was unlike Embry to lose himself, but nonetheless he stood for the brevity of moments it took; oblivious to the world but for that of a single sound: the ocean. He closed his eyes, and no matter how far he was, the notes of memories replayed themselves upon a single flight of that saline aroma. There he was: two years younger - yet hardly any smaller - ambling along the various inlets of the cove. Alone, but in no way depressed or forlorn, for in the distance he could spot the frothy caps of waves sending challenges bowling into the earth; crashing into his body and forcing him to repel. This was his childhood playmate, you see. And he could have asked for no better teacher as time wore on, to instill within him the virtues of the sea.

Why did I come here? He shook the question away. The answer no longer eluded him, nor sought pretense. What mattered was that he had returned, just as the tide. And truly, he knew the answer. 

I have never left.

Throughout his travels elsewhere, no wonder could enrapture the poor boy more than that of those beloved, cerulean depths. His heart quickened, and in the midst of the trees there lived no more incongruous a sight than this: a massive, bear of an Embry seated tranquilly among the corpses of fallen majesties.