Arren… really didn’t have a great explanation for why he was doing what he was doing.
In the time it took him to find what smelled to be the Evergreen’s stronghold—not the most difficult task, given his nose still worked rather well despite his aching joints and worsening sight—he’d thought about a lot of things. His ex-mate. His sons. His old pack and old friends.
Mostly, he wondered what they’d think, if they knew what he wished to do now.
What-Ifs and Could’ve-Beens hadn’t ever really held him back, though. And on the rare chance they had, it had never been for long. He wasn’t a backwards-looking wolf, when the future continued to loom before him just as brightly as it had in his youth. His hope that that wouldn’t change gave him the resolve to approach the sloping boulders in a small clearing of the woods.
The Wolves’ scent was strong here.
Rathbone’s words rattled in his mind. Lots of pups around, he’d been cautioned. Hoping not to disturb whichever families resided here, when he howled at last, his was a short, quiet one. He could still tell though, from the rumbling in his chest, his voice had carried far.
He sat beside an aged pine tree, tapping his tail against what dry leaf litter had been blown in from other sectors of the woods.
Apr 16, 2018 07:05 PM
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