Ankyra Sound There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon

In the days following Caiaphas' passing, Ephraim became a despondent shadow that haunted his birthplace. He mourned not for the wolf his mother had been, because he truly hadn't known her at all, but for everything he believed she could have been. For what few memories he had of her. For the woman he imagined in his mind, for the mama he would never have again.

He remained tethered to the sound in spite of the ruined coast. He hung about the entrance of the grotto, thin and downtrodden, as though he meant to guard it against all would-be intruders. Truthfully, that's exactly what he planned to do. Ephraim hadn't come up with a plan for disposing of Caiaphas' body yet, and once he tore himself away from it, he didn't want to go back. It still smelled of the insidious death that came for her and he was reluctant to touch her husk more than he had to.

Would she prefer to waste away in her beloved grotto? To float out to sea, or feed the bellies of scavengers? A burial in the sand? In the trees? Ephraim didn't have the answers, so he dallied on making any decisions and guarded the grotto instead.