Old threads

The Warlord glanced back at the dog as he spoke, and tightness curled the edges of the Warlord's eyes. One of his wolves had been in serious trouble, and no one had deemed to tell him about it? The look he shot the dog made it very clear what he felt about that.

His attention back on Magnus, he saw when anger darkened the other world's eyes. The Warlord took it in, and let it roll over him. “When you came to me, you were badly injured, damaged. Head injuries, I’ve been told, are tricky things. So I housed you, and fed you, and let you be. Wondering if things would trickle back in. I’m sorry it hit you all at once, Magnus.” Seeing the depression in the other wolf, he wondered if it was a good thing, or a bad one, that the memories had returned to him. “But now you remember, what are you going to do about it? What do you want in life, Magnus, who do you want to be? Do you want to be a wolf that stepped into the darkness and let themselves fade away from memory?” his voice picked up a hint of a snarl, and he didn’t release his grip on the other wolf. Magnus needed to decide. Not wallow in his misery.


"Sirius"