It felt like Kismet had only just returned home and yet now it had been taken from him once more. The boy was starting to feel that perhaps he had the worst luck in the world, very rarely did things seem to stay right for long. No one would group them together to try start again however it seemed, the scattered and broken remains of a once great pack looked as though they would remain just that. Now where would they all go, where would he go?
Warja had been his first thought, though his last visit to Mount Volkan she hadn't been there, scents stale and it seemed her family had left some time ago. He wished to find her again but first he had to stay with his family, his mother and tiny siblings needed all the help they could get. Sarak was still missing after all and he couldn't just leave his mother alone to cope with the children.
Kismet would stop as his mother did, the boy he'd been carrying would be placed down as well and he would look to his mother, a slightly concerned look in his eyes, her tone and word choice not filling him with a lot of confidence. "What is it?" He would ask simply, no beating around the bush, he wanted to, had to know.
