Blackfeather Woods a turtle has made it to the water

His memory wasn't so great and reliable as he thought it was, marveled Ramsay. He could have sworn that the pack abandoned Blackfeather Woods and housed themselves in a deep valley far to the north, but his recollection of even that was hazy. He remembered fighting and running with his pack mates, he remembered Vaati and his mental break, and he remembered returning to the woods with Cicero. They had left Maegi behind here, but no one else had come with them. How had they come to return to their home after war sent them packing?

He didn't have long to think on it. His high shoulders rolled in a shrug and he asked, "which one was Kove?" The names and faces of the Blackfeather pack were all blurred together in his memories. The only ones he could reliably name were Maegi, Vaati and Cicero, and none of their scents persisted on the borders. He noted the absence of all the macabre trinkets and tokens of the pack's past, and his lips pursed thoughtfully. Maybe war had taught them something after all.

"Maybe no one," he agreed, though he thought he could detect some familiarity there too. "They returned but are not the same," he mused, chancing a glance at his brother's face. Euron had always delighted in the pack's foolish border paraphernalia and feigned frightful air where Ramsay had deemed it all unnecessary; what did his brother make of all this?