What hurts the most

The island was left behind, a spar on the beach, and still Charlie’s nerves were on fire. He thought of what Dread had said, and no matter how he looked at the situation he couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. He had noticed the absence of Dread, noticed the shift in his father’s demeanor. His paws carried him toward Sirius’ den. He felt off in meeting Deluge. She hadn’t attacked him, but he couldn’t help but feel as though speaking with her had been wrong. Was it guilt that ate at him now? The guilt of knowing more than he should? For interacting with a wolf that was meant to be an enemy of the Armada? Charlie sighed heavily.

If these mixed up feelings were what he was feeling… How was the Warlord fairing? What weight was he carrying? Alone? That thought caused Charlie to flinch as he stepped in the tunnels. He would make the rest of the way up quietly, only pausing once he’d reached the outside of Sirius’ den. Softly the yearling would call, hoping that speaking with his father wouldn’t be a mistake. “...dad?” Was the Warlord even in? It was the middle of the day after all. He could be patrolling or… something. Part of him hoped the Warlord wasn’t in and was keeping himself busy.

Isolating would be more of a concern, and continue to raise red flags for the tawny yearling.

"Speech," 'Thought.'