Ghosts of the Past

He had ignored the howl last time it had sounded at his border.

It had been too soon, the wounds still far too fresh for him to answer Allen's call. He had chosen to ignore it, cuts still deep. Back then he didn't want anything to do with the man, and feared that his anger would get the better of him if he had gone to his borders that day. But now, now that the siege had come and gone, his pups had been born, and Abaven was expanding once more, he missed him. He hated that he had been gone for so long, and that he had no idea if Nona and the kids had ever recovered. It was time to push passed everything and be the bigger wolf -- or at least he could have been if he didn't ignore the summons like a child. With a heavy heart and even heavier paws, Bass practically dragged himself to Sonticus' borders, having picked up his old friends scent near the allied pack. Ears were flat against his skull, fear that this time his call would go unanswered weighing him down. But it was time now, and he couldn't ignore this any longer.

It took him awhile to find Sonticus, they had moved since the last time he had been around. Having walked in the wrong direction more than once, at last he picked up faint traces of their border. Heading in its direction, he was quite surprised to smell that Allen's scent was very prominant along the territory lines. Confusion made him pause, a brow rising as he stared at the invisible line like it could tell him something. Thinking long and hard, his brows pushing together, he finally tipped back his head and called out for Allen. He was very respectful of the borders, standing on the loner side, but was still studying it like it held all the answers. What in the world had happened since the older man had taken his family away from Abaven? He was sure that there was more to this tale.

"Speech"
'thoughts'