Ankyra Sound only the good die young

The loss of Kevlyn was a sorrowful one, and it meant that the sound had lost every single one of its children from last year. If that was not an omen, Spyridon was not sure what constituted one. He prayed longer and harder than he had in a long time, and he prayed for new life to be brought into the sound. Spyro now wished that he had taken the young boy whom he'd found at the edges of the plateau, even if it had brought unrest between the two packs. Youth were the future, sprites or spawn, and Ankyra Sound would not thrive without them.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that he had long been away from the traditional sisters of Hippo Tang Cove, but he felt a small, hot bubble of emotion toward his queen. He suppressed it, though it continued to smolder for her actions. If they did not replenish the sound with new life, they would be lost.

Movement was damn near impossible.  Every labored step shot sharp streaks of ache across the bastard's skeletal frame.  The dried blood of the fray still clung in coagulated bits, matting down Reek's unkempt black fur.  The broken wolf was an ugly sight to behold as he lurched and limped his way down the beach.  He swayed back and forth in an awkward lockstep, still unable to put weight on his newly reset leg.  Though his injuries were great, the ragged wolf considered himself lucky to be alive, unlike that pup, whatever his name was.

Kevlyn, or something like that... who knows?  The bastard never really got the opportunity to talk to the kid in detail.  He only ever really saw him at night in the males' den, and then no one was in the mood for talking.  Kid brought it on himself.  Shouldn't have come.  War isn't a child's game to play.  

One awkward step after another, he continued his walk.  Spyridon stood in the distance, forlorn and lost in thought.  The sad, thick stillness of the sound could be cut with a knife.  Reek wasn't one for the sads, though, in this situation he found it difficult to remain his usual jovial self.  A whole mix of emotions were beginning to boil over inside the broken bastard; anger, fear, and an overwhelming sense of cosmic irony.  

"επιβήτορας," he grunted in greeting to his superior as he approached.  Pantaliemon had begun to teach him the language of the sea.  However, progress was slow and practice was necessary. "Σαντ, ναί?"[1]  


[1]Sad, yes? 

After the amber coloured fae had helped whom that she could. Fixing up Reek's leg and seeing no conflict was started between the amazon and the queen. Wynter made it her priority to deal with her own wounds. She padded further down the beach wincing with every step. 

She then sat down, not far from where Spyro and Reek were conversing in the tongue she had begun to get good at. "Hey," she muttered staring out over the water. She knew. However reluctant she was. She would have to enter the water and let Mother Sea cleanse her wounds. "Don't laugh if i make myself look like a complete idiot," she said with a small chuff. 

She didn't know how well this was going to go. Knowing Reek though. She wouldn't be surprised if he had. So she decided to mention it. She sighed then began to pad into the water slowly letting the water surround her. She winced as she waded deep enough the salty water washed up over her wounds. This will do me good. She kept saying that over and over in her head convincing herself she had no other choice. 

She admitted it had begun to feel a little bit less painful the longer she stood there. .She decided to stand where she was in the water. Just let it wash up over her wounds instead of trying to swim and potentially failing. She didnt have much of an ego. But she didn't like embarrassing herself.