The eunuch limped a few paces, settling heavily down on the cot and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the cabin. There was no moonlight, though he’d lost track of time to know whether it was because of the lunar cycle or dark clouds outside. He had been too eager to explore what lay beyond the mountains to pay attention to the sky, and recent events had given him little time to wonder about the weather. Right now, he simply needed to think.

Ephraim rubbed at the wound on his arm, a treatment of rough handling when he had been captured by the Tribe. He had come with curiosity about joining, not expecting to be forcibly taken into AniWaya, and it had been a couple of nights. So far, he’d gathered that there was disruption within the Tribe as well as a potential war outside it, but what the individual parts meant had escaped him.

His normally smiling lips fell into a soft frown as he gave the cut a lick. It was already healing, but it’d be best to make sure it kept clean. He was only grateful there hadn’t been a worse fight upon being accosted at the borders—though the soft-muscled man could truly fight if he was pressed.

The lap of his tongue and the taste of metallic blood brought him back to harsh winters, and he closed his eyes. There were other canines in the cabin, though he hadn’t spoken to any of them—at least, not with answer. Someone coughed, and a shadow passed beyond the window. His ears pricked and his brown eyes lazily followed the movement, but there was no telling who the shape belonged to.

He soon abandoned licking his wound and settled down on the cot, stretching his arms out and sprawling on his back, one hind paw hanging down close to the floor. He was used to sleeping bundled in one of his four-legged forms, but from the Guardian’s talk, that had been looked down upon. He saw the notion as silly but hadn’t challenged it.

It wasn’t Ephraim’s time to challenge things just yet. First, he needed to lie here and wait. He would figure it all out soon…