The meadows were quiet during the day. And now that night has fallen, ironically enough, the symphony of the woodlands burst forth with vigor—crickets chirped, frogs croaked, owls hooted. With each sound, Lugh's ears twitched with interest glimmering in his eyes.

It seemed as though he was hardly present in the pack commons anymore; even when it grew dark outside, he was off wandering. Somewhere. No longer unaccustomed to the length of his own legs, he could wander with long strides for hours.

A simmer of guilt resided in his gut. He hardly spent time with Ma anymore—and he knows she's been through a lot. He has, too. With Da still missing, and the odd occurrences that seemingly popped out of nowhere, the dreams, the voices, the runes. It seems the moment he'd finally adjusted to life in Mythris, some unspeakable force had rocked their stable life from the foundations.

The boy gripped a rabbit between his maws, carefully walking towards the communal den. This felt quite familiar. Only weeks prior did he do the same damn thing, stay out well past the time he should have gone to sleep, carrying a rabbit as a peace offering. It worked last time; maybe it will again.