The processing going on between his ears was evident in his sunburst eyes, tail beginning to wave in small twitches as he struggled to understand what his father was telling him. Gilligan had only known one pack his entirely life, one. He'd been born into it, before his p-
Before those wolves he used to live with got sick, and died. The entire pack had stars, just like he did – formed before he was born and still strong when he left, the loner had no idea that group life could be so unstable. Fluctuation sat ill with the young Aquila, glancing around the area as if he'd suddenly become aware it was stalked with ghosts. "That won't be us, yo," he finally decided, unable to keep the nervous tick out of his tail. "Maybe we shouldn't go, then, if it was shitty like that. Why don't- Can we restore it? The place you remember? The way we like?" the yearling questioned Datura, confident in his father's ability to lead. That's what he'd been doing all his life, after all, and the brilliant behemoth had been a prominent nabob – it seemed only natural his influence would extend to Relic Lore, as well. "Yo, maybe we should go, see it. Kick those assholes out, something. You'd be better at it, I'd bet my frickin' tail on it."
#R28-9