He'd been lucky the cave systems had thawed water, or else he would be dead now, rotting in the dark and likely never found. Why was he constantly chased by ill luck? Maybe he was cursed, or maybe this was the punishment earned for abandoning his mother. The thought of it all being beyond his power fueled his bottomless reserve of anger, and it was that oil-slick flame that kept him going, back into the sunlight and through the drifts, against the wind and back to the sky. With a broken hind leg, scrapes and scratches just healing and deep, wheezing breaths he all but dragged himself back the borders of Fallen Tree Cove. They had nurtured him back to health once before, and now he was banking on them being willing to do it all again. If they weren't? No, they had to. It had taken all his strength to make it back to them. This would not be where his life ended.
Throwing his head back, he let out a howl, raspy and weak in timber. He called for the alphas, for the pack, for anyone that would help him slink back into the warm, familiar den and coddle him as his mother used to.