It had been a curious thing to find Indru's scent moving in the opposite direction to Swift River. It had been such a curious thing that Marsh, as said pack's Second, had felt rather obliged to get to the bottom of the situation. Indru's affairs were not normally his concern, but the wolf was a father now, and Marsh had already been far outside of the packlands delivering Prosper to his parents. Why would there be such a recent trail of Indru's? Why would he ever need to go so far?

For a few minutes, Marsh had weighed up the situation. On the one hand, Indru's presence in the pack was an undisputed necessity, and retrieving him - or at least understanding his intentions - was important. Corinna would want to know.

Corinna, of course, was 'the other hand'. Marsh was to support the mother at all costs, for that was his duty. To return to Swift River, and allow Indru to make his own way back in his own time - for that would surely not take long - was a more sensible option, surely.

He would have thought so. Unfortunately, old habits die hard, and it was only now that he felt an old tug in his chest. Indru was his leader, his pillar, and though common sense demanded that he go back to Corinna, an insatiable need to be around his commander pulled him in the opposite direction. In an attempt to fight it, the copper wolf had taken several steps in the direction of home, but the urge had proven far, far too strong. Turning on his tail, Marsh had dropped his nose to the ground and pursued Indru. Surely, surely, it would not keep him from Swift River for long.

It didn't matter either way. It had all been for naught.

Such a long time had passed, so much time that it was almost embarassing to go back now, it was too late, he had to come back without empty hands or not come back at all. The logic was flawed, he knew it, but he had searched under the belief that Ozera and Triell could support Corinna, and that he would not be long. It was not enough, but if he could just find Indru and bring him back, two would turn into four again, and four was better than three, but -

It didn't matter either way.

He had lost count of the days, partly through shame, but he had also lost Indru's trail. He had finally had to admit that the search was needless, and the urge was not satisfied but it could never be. If he could not find his master, then his offspring and mate were the next best things. It was cold to think about it like that, but he could not lie to himself. In a way, it was relieving to finally be back on this road, following his own fading scent back to familiar lands. How long had it been? How many times had he come crawling back to Relic Lore?

It was, of course, the ultimate in torture that he recognised a scent on his way back, the scent that he had been obsessing over for weeks. That Indru make it back before him was a cruel and unusual treatment and only drove home his own pointless behaviour. It almost compelled him to stop, turn about and never show his face here again if it wasn't for that urge, the urge which only moved his legs faster and brought him back to the river quicker.

Somehow, though, when he reached the familiar lands, it wasn't Indru's presence that he most feared. It wasn't Indru that he had let down. His nose told him that Ozera was missing, which only showed him even further that his obsession had most likely harmed the pack's infants, and guilt spiralled madly inside of him even as he lifted his muzzle and called out, called out for the mother he had deeply wronged.

Indru was here, he knew it, and that satisfied the urge. The magnets were in sync again. Now he just had to face his failings.

The queen came, and when she did, it only compounded his guilt. It was more obvious than ever that his choice was poor, that the urge had only done ill, and he had let a vulnerable mother starve for it. Thank anything and everything that it was not too late - though it was, in a way. His natural tendencies towards strong attachments and obligations had utterly backfired. Had he been younger, he would have found it impossible to believe, but somehow, as he got older, his own ways were becoming less strict. He could see that this had been a mistake.

It was such a shame that he also knew that it wasn't a habit he could yet fight.

That wasn't important now. What was important were these next few moments where he would discover if his mistake had been too grave, or whether it was forgiveable. Common sense said that Corinna would likely take him back, if only because his presence meant more help, but there would be nothing stopping her from shunning him the moment his usefulness no longer outweighed his apparent untrustworthiness. He had once thought her a slightly flaky, weak beast, but seeing her now - alive and, if his nose was to be believed, still a mother of three - flooded him with respect for the leader. Only a strong head would have survived such a period of abandonment from all those who had sworn to protect her.

She was not cold. There was no sense of welcome, but he had not expected it, and jumped at the idea that this was yet a situation to be salvaged. He stood, allowed her to approach him at her own leisure, and dropped his stance accordingly. His gaze fell, and their otherwise similar body sizes become unbalanced as he made his base feelings perfectly clear.

No question. No expectations? He licked at his lips as thoughts raced through his head, desperately trying to find the right combination of words to help her understand his excuses. Why did it have to be so complicated? He was sorry and ashamed, she could see that - but it wasn't enough, even if his reason was poor it was a reason. She didn't have to comprehend his infernal urges, but that much wasn't necessary.

"Nnnndru," he began, slurring so early, desperate and hopeless at once. "Was - www, g-gone, uhnnn, nuh, nuh-eed. Fff." Impossible. Guilt and the memory of the last fruitless weeks were overwhelming. What was he to do if she decided that he wasn't needed? Indru was there, the urge was pulling at the back of his neck, he couldn't be turned away - he couldn't start again. It was too late, he was too old.

Marsh frowned, eyes fixed at the spot between her feet, and took a deep breath. "Fff...uh... 'low. Bbb, buh... 'Dru... " How was he supposed to explain like this? The infernal sounds he hated so much were choking him, but he repressed all his irritation for fear of showing any and it being misunderstood. Skipping a few intended lines, he glanced up only to look beyond her, to where he knew the heart of Swift River to be.

"Back." Pointless.

Her acceptance was a lifted weight from his shoulders that had been settled there for far too long. She had listened to his relative gibberish, taking what was needed, and he was filled with relief at the knowledge that he must have made some small sense. He could come back.

Corinna circled him, tying him to the pack once again, and hopefully for the last time. He breathed easier, standing straighter with the pride of a wolf with a home. A low rumble signified his understanding and gratitude, and he followed his leader back to the only place he knew where to be.