When we were young

Far more than ever before, Artur found every moment in pack lands unbearably stifling. He begrudged every minute that he needed to spend there that took him from his search for Geoffrey, but the volcano had quite efficiently erased any trace of his brother's trail and he had found no new traces since. It was maddening, but the tantalizing possibilty that he was alive continued to draw Artur obsessively back to his search. Had he not had three siblings still clearly alive in Valhalla's lands he might not have returned at all without finding Geoffrey, but it was what it was, and he found himself conatantly torn between finding his brother and taking care of the other siblings. If he had insisted on staying close to Geoffrey to protect him, he wouldn't now be lost. Likewise, if he continued to leave Caelia, Cairo, and Viviane unprotected, might not worse befall?

He paced near the stone circle, unperturbed by the occasional tremors. It seemed like hardly any time at all since he and his siblings had received lessons from their mother here, but the fact that she lay buried here put the lie to that. Still, he found himself obliquely soothed by the memories, and the reminder that she had done her best to ensure that they could protect themselves when she was gone. Perhaps it was that reminder that made him lift his muzzle, a long low note calling for Caelia.