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Felvere of the House Staedryn was hungry. He had never felt hunger such as this in his life. He had gone a whole day without food, nearing two now. His coat was muddy and torn, his clothes filthy and his boots were showing signs of wear. He'd have to replace them the moment he found a merchant or a tailor or cobbler capable enough to serve someone of his standing. Did he even have a standing anymore? Felevere's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together, and he straightened his back. Of course he did. He was born noble, he would stay noble forever. It was in his blood. But...hadn't he defamed his brother? Practically stripped away his nobility? Well, Dravin was different. If he was truly noble, truly deserving of the status bestowed on him, Felvere never would have been able cast him down. If he had been...he was dead now. Felvere had killed him. A cackle rose within him and Felvere's jaw tightened further. He stamped out the cackle before it could form. He was far too dignified to cackle at the death of a family member, even one he had caused, and he had caused two of them. That was two things not to laugh at. Felvere needn't worry about ill-placed humour however. Felvere didn't laugh. Ever. The occasional smirk perhaps, but outright laughter? He sniffed, holding his handkerchief up t his nose as though guarding himself from a bad smell. That was far too common for someone of his status. What wasn't common for someone of his status-former status, a part of his mind reminded him-was to be this hungry. Once his mind had recovered, he had found no more meat arriving at his campsite at dawn, and now was at a crucial crossroad. He needed to eat. That much was obvious. That meant he had to acquire food. He could go and buy some, but for that he needed a place to buy it from, and that was nigh on impossible, especially considering his rather unbecoming lack of finances. He could steal food, but that was beneath him. Or he could beg. Felvere didn't even dignify that option with further consideration. A member of House Staedryn, begging from farmboys? He sniffed at his handkerchief again and a corner of his lip curled up distastefully. Well...what about the wolves? They had gotten him into this mess, invading his mind, his dreams. They had fed him once, broken him and helped him to heal. Perhaps they could help him again. It was mad, but honestly...Felvere glanced down at his scuffed boots. Could he get any lower? Tentatively, Felvere reached out in his mind and looked for wolves.