A taste of home

“Then mark me as a fool” he said, and didn’t hesitate once as he followed the familiar shape of his friend through the well lit cave. She led him to a small warren to the West and seemed to be poking around. He could tell when she found what she was looking for, and she gestured him forward. He moved into the room and glanced around. It was small, and there was only a single bed. He hopped up and settled onto it as Wren busied herself grabbing what she needed.

When she returned to his side, it was to scrub at his injuries. Despite her care to be gentle, he hissed once, before clamping down on it. Stony-faced as she cleaned out sand and grit from gashes and cuts. “My parents, bless them, where-are-” he grimaced, struggling to decide on a tense, and landed on the one that hurt the least. Even if it was perhaps a foolish one. “Stubborn old fools. They would have waited before leaving their ancestral home. But perhaps you're right. If we found our way here…” He trailed off. He wasn’t sure what was worse. Holding onto a fool's hope, or having none at all. “So you’ve dug in some new roots in this Boreas land, have you? Good for you, Wren. You're looking well.” She had admired her Alpha, hadn’t she? His cowardice must have stung something awful, on top of the tragedy.


"Speech"