A snowflake landed on his nose, causing the white man to wake with a jolt. Feeling discombobulated and on-edge, Larkspur's fur stood on end as he tried to make sense of where he was. It wasn't Oak Tree Bend, but his pack's scent wasn't that far off. Snow floated down from the sky and a small layer of it had formed on the ground around him. The Spectral Woods was silent and cold, Larkspur felt a strong sense of dread fill him as he went over what he'd done that day. None of which led him to being away from the twisted oak tree he'd called home, much less outside of the Bend's borders.
That awful, sinking feeling of regret and trepidation began to fill him and choke him. For a few moments he was frozen in the moment, then managed to step forward. He needed to go back to his pack, back where he could make sure the wolves were fed, back where he had some sort of sense of duty. With that, he had happiness. It wasn't a pure, raw type of happiness, but it was his. He'd deserved it, he worked hard for it.
Did he, though? He had worked hard, he did his best to provide for his pack. But what about the one he'd left behind? What about the unforgivable things he had done? And, perhaps most importantly, what if it happened again?
When it happened again. He knew he wasn't well and ignoring his problems wasn't a long-term solution. Really, he had no long term solution. His short term solution seemed to be working. For now. He wanted to forget it all, he wanted to go back to feeling at home. Larkspur headed back towards his pack, quietly wishing the dread away.