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Open to all in Camhanaich! I am so behind on threads, so feel free to drop info on the things that I've missed! So glad to be back in it <3

So much had transpired within Camhanaich that it made Kirain’s chest ache. From the birth of Liss’s pups to the attack of the assassins, to the theft of their stores, it seemed there was to be no rest for the druids. Her mate and packmates were injured, their need for supplies growing ever more dire. She and her son had ventured out in search of the stolen pups, hoping to find Liss along the way. But their efforts had proved fruitless. The scents had faded, her tracking skills falling short of her mate’s. And all the while, the terror of being away from home after such tragedy gnawed at her.

It was well into the morning when she and Faolán first caught sight of the Rise. The familiar standing stones. Their home.

Kirain’s pace quickened as she drew nearer, a howl rising from her throat to announce their return to the pack. She had been gone for so long. What had she missed?

So long, so far, and he was anxious to return! He missed his sisters. He worried for his father. He fretted over his packmates. So many emotions swirled within him that his chest ached beneath their weight. But they were home! And they had brought supplies. He carried a fur bundle filled with an assortment of medicinal herbs, hoping to ease the strain on their dwindling stores. As his mother’s howl rang through the air, his tail began to wag eagerly.

ewan did not like the stormclouds, but liked the den less. he resisted being brought in and was the first to scramble out when the sun rose, and now in watery morning light he curled in the grass and dozed, reassured by familiar scents.

then a howl rang out, and eyes cracked open. ears perked, searching, and finding nothing familiar, settled flat against his skull. the tone did not belong to the shadows that haunted his dreams, but brought with it much of the same terror of that dark night.

crumpled hind legs hampered the movement, but ewan hefted himself on wobbly front legs and growled, hackles bristling. nightmare and reality alike had already taught him there was no escape.